


Promised Victory

by silveryspring



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, M/M, Slow Burn, Space Ships, cities and countries have become planets, descriptions of enochlophobia, love in the galaxy, or not burn at all, space universe, you'll see i'm not original with name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-12 08:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryspring/pseuds/silveryspring
Summary: "You know me," Yuta laughs. "Where you go, I'm bound to follow." // the JohnYu sci-fi space that no one asked for.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> look, this killed me. i've never written anything like that before. somewhere along the lines i forgot things. somewhere in the process of editing i missed something. i just - well. it's here. the johny sci-fi au that no one asked for. inspired my all the photo for their upcoming concert.

-Day 105, After Leaving What is Once Human Territories-  
  
To one particularly poetic eye, they seem to rise out of depths like metallic sharks, cold and grey and imposing, their great fins parting the swirling moisture of the clouds with a predatory grace that is indicative of their prowess on the battlefield. The twelve sleek ships cut through the upper layers of the atmosphere like blades cutting through white silk, perfect and smooth. Around them, the seemingly endless star-kissed sky opens up, welcoming their small fighters back from adventures beneath that veil of atmosphere.  
  
But that is to a poetic eye, and Captain Johnny Seo has always had a decidedly practical eye when he sees the ships under his command.  
  
Looking out through the canopy of his small craft, Johnny can easily peer through the visor of his helmet at the scars left from laser fire, shots that has made it past his shielding but miraculously failed to kill him. Johnny would like to think that it is his superior flying ability that keeps him alive during and after the Great War, but the truth is, he has his own Guardian Angel on his wing.  
  
Lieutenant Yuta Nakamoto.  
  
Of course, given his reputation and record, no one would ever accuse Yuta of being any kind of angel, except maybe a fallen one.  
  
Pulling his mind from such thoughts, Johnny examines the monitors displayed in front of him, first glancing at his wingman and then checking on the rest of his squadron. He is responsible for them. Their lives are his, to send to their deaths or to save. They are all in precise formation, guarding the rising behemoth of a mining ship as it, too, breaks through the clouds surrounding the barren planet below.  
  
Everything is going according to plan.  
  
Something is bound to go wrong soon.  
  
The fact of the matter is the majority of their ships are beaten all to hell, not just the fighters under his command. Hundreds of refugee ships have come to their convoy, and only recently are they beginning to realize that the idle hands within, still occasionally shaking with fear, can be used to produce goods and services. As such, several ships are becoming task specific, and there is a slow incline towards employment. Some become industrial ships, where various necessities are crafted. A few others are devoted strictly to pleasure and escapism. There are even some for schools, holding mostly orphans and injured. Other ships in their convoy are becoming devoted strictly to farming, holding a small number of actual crew aboard, but a heavy amount of livestock and agriculture. So many ships, so many people, and yet, they are such a small percentage of what the population has been just five years before.  
  
A lot of destruction can happen in five years. A lot of lives are likely to change. A lot of people can die. A lot of people did die.  
  
And they aren't out of danger yet.  
  
"Hey, Captain, my Captain!" comes the soft buzz from the com-channel, breaking into the otherwise quiet of Johnny's cockpit. With a soft sigh, the captain tilts his head forward, so that his helmet rests on one of the nearby consoles.  
  
Due to the compact design of their NCT Stingers,none of the lithe star fighters are designed to project a com-signal that broadcasts tone of voice or any other vocal inflections. These ships have the pilots sitting forward straddling the central computer instead of sitting back as if in a chair with the computing systems surrounding them. The large hump houses the weapons control, navigations bank, environmental systems, and more, but due to someone's desire to streamline the fighters and provide a better chance of survival in an aerial battle, some 'corners are cut,' and those corners involves the com-systems. However, the lack of vocal inflections doesn’t matter, as the only person who uses that kind of undisciplined language while on duty is Yuta.  
  
As far as the lieutenant is concerned, his job is secure. After all, it takes a lot to discharge the best fighter in the fleet while at war, and while a bit of insubordination is enough to get him time in the brig, that just means that there is one less fighter out on the field. However, the captain isn't about to send Yuta to the brig every time he acts out against the rules because, honestly, he doesn’t want Yuta living in the brig, and that is down to what it will come. They cannot afford to not have Yuta flying, especially considering the man must have been born to fly, as he can perform aerial maneuvers that leaves other, more experienced pilots nauseous just watching.  
  
"Yes, Lime Three?" Johnny replies. As relaxed as his wing mate is about the rules and regulations ruling their lives, Johnny likes to take them to heart.  
  
"There's talk of a few games going to be played on the Empathy Area. I am wondering if you want to come and investigate these rumors."  
  
Trust Yuta to know where every game—no matter what kind of game it is—is being held. Johnny smiles, though no one is around to see it. "What kind of game?"  
  
"Regulate."  
  
Dark eyebrows rise at that. Regulate is a game that requires at least eight players, plus two referees, one ball, two nets, a lot of movement, and a lot of room. With as crowded as all of the ships within their armada are, he is amazed that people are actually going to attempt that kind of game. That being said, he is sure that others are of similar mind to Yuta and are going to cram the ship full of people, trying to watch.  
  
The captain knows that he and Yuta are best friends, even though they are as different as sugar and citrus. Similar, yet different. They are of the same age, give or take some time, but due to their personalities, they are nearly complete opposites.  
  
This is one more area in which they are polar opposites. How ironic is it that the one who grew up within the human populace is the one who keeps avoiding it, and that the boy who only saw another human reflected by smooth surfaces until the age of ten wants to spend every waking moment seeking as much human contact as he can find? Truth to be told, the captain has a slight aversion to crowds. Of course he can handle himself in front of one, but being in one, surrounded by all of those people, all of those pressing bodies, all that weight, and everyone of them stealing his air like the vacuum of space never can... No, Johnny much prefers the idea of being in his quarters alone with one of his infopads, going over the next day's schedule, or better yet, a recreational drama or mystery story.  
  
"You can go if you'd like, but you might want to watch the Capacity Numbers. Empathy Area isn't up to holding more than a couple thousand people."  
  
"You don't want to come?"  
  
"Thanks, but I have a few reports to fill out," Johnny hedges. "Plus, I know I'm going to have to make sure that you don’t make any typos.”  
  
"Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Captain," Yuta replies, and Johnny is reminded that Yuta, though able to speak Standard, isn't fluent in all the colloquial sayings. There is a short pause before his voice comes back, and even without the distinctive tone of voice or the inflictions, Johnny knows that his wing mate's demeanor has changed. "This is Lime Three, I've got incoming at four high, signatures reading Sitrillon."  
  
Sitrillon.  
  
The Sitrillon are the heralds of another race, called the Hapnora, and are a warning to whoever has the misfortune to be in their path. Johnny can feel the bile reaching up the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. The Sitrillon appear to the naked eye to be half lizard, half rock, and all murderous intent, and are sometimes called 'Rock-Faces' by the humans whom they have hunted. While the  Sitrillon are not their primary enemy, dead is dead no matter who pulled the trigger.  
  
Memories are hard to kill, especially when so many of them involved death. The twenty-seven-year-old captain still remembers being on the com-station on board the Vision, a pleasure ship where he had spent his last leave before the war became the end-all that it had, listening the high-pitched whine that their fighters made when moving through the atmosphere. He still remembers the sounds of his sister screaming as laser fire destroyed their family house around her.  
  
Five years ago the war started. Two years ago, his home planet of Chicago fell, and he lost his family. One year ago, they lost the war and every planet that once bore the standard of the Human Race.  
  
And now they are running. Running scared and running blind, but running nonetheless. It doesn’t matter where. They don’t need a destination other than 'away'. Away from the devastation, but towards parts unknown and unexplored. Survival is all that matter.  
  
Fortunately, not every alien race is against them. They have allies, but their associates does not fight their enemies. Instead they provide supplies like food and water and valuable medicines. In the end, their alien friends have provided celestial maps that offers the safest routes possible away from the burning wreckage that is Human Territory. Unfortunately, those safe passageways are not completely free of enemies.  
  
Maybe one day, they might evade their enemies completely, but until then, they are left trying to stay alive.  
  
"This is Lime Eight, I confirm twenty targets."  
  
'I breathe in the fear...and exhale,' Johnny thinks as he took a quieting breath. "All right, Limes, time to paint the sky. Break off by pairs, and stay sharp. We're going to toast a victory when we get back home, and there's no time for memorials."  
  
There came eleven responses. Johnny sends a silent prayer to the nearest star that he will have eleven responses when it comes time to celebrate.  
  
-Day 111-  
  
Johnny walks  quickly down the slate gray corridors of the ship, his boots making soft sounds against the metal plating of the floor. His wing mate has set a personal record. He's managed to stay out of the brig for all of thirty days. The longest amount of time yet.  
  
Sad as it is to say, Johnny can find the brig from any point on the ship, which is no small feat considering how labyrinth-like the ship is. And it is all Yuta's fault. The Security Chief has threatened to start charging the squadron rent if he continues to find the wayward lieutenant in residence. Along the monochromatic path to the brig, Johnny passes by fellow officers and salutes automatically. The responses he receives are half-hearted at best, but the captain is used to it. After being beaten down for so long, small formalities seem worthless. Still, Johnny clings to the discipline.  
  
Everything will fall apart without discipline.  
  
Which is something that Yuta really needs to learn.  
  
Twin doors hiss open, allowing Johnny to step into the utter stillness that is the brig. Where the hallways are a slate gray, the inside of the brig holds a bit more color variations. The walls are constantly changing colors, shifting from one muted color to the next in a very soothing, relaxing pattern. With quick strides, he walks into the main room, which is where the main security desk is, important for processing and overseeing the prisoners. Surrounding the room are ten cells, open to being watched by the clear force field that prevents prisoners from escaping. If they want to escape.  
  
"Hey, Johnny," Yuta calls out as he sits up on his cot. Of all the pilots, only Yuta and Taeyong ever calls Johnny by name. Everyone else calls him either by his rank or by his family title. Yuta' barely-within-regulation collar length hair, so shockingly pale as to almost appear white, is in disarray from not having been brushed after being held under a helmet. His eyes seem tired, though there is a spark of mirth to them. "You come to bust me out again?"  
  
Johnny crosses  his arms in front of his chest and shakes his head. "I gotta know. Which is it: women or smuggling?"  
  
"Hey!" Yuta calls out in mock indignation as he stands up. "I just might, just might be innocent this time!"  
  
"Uh-huh," Johnny snorts. "And I just might, just might be a transgalactic vid-star."  
  
"Well, you never know," Yuta shrugs. Bright eyes and beautiful smile aim at Johnny in a manner that makes the usually stoic captain flush with heat. "I think you'd make a good action star, you have enough muscles. But there is a high chance you will star in one of those dramas the girls are always sighing over, with that face.”  
  
"To answer your question, Captain Seo," the Security Chief cuts in as he walks towards the captain, his voice sounding disinterested, though the man himself is anything but. "He was arrested by Duke Jung, who claims that Yuta assaulted his wife."  
  
"Oh?" Johnny asks, one eyebrow lifting. He turns back to his wing mate.  
  
"As if I need to 'assault' someone! I do not lack willing partners," Yuta cries out in genuine disgust.  
  
It is a fair statement. When he wants to, Yuta can appear absolutely stunning with his lilac hair, deep eyes and absolutely stunning smile. However, it isn't just his physical form that gave the pilot a well-deserved reputation. It is just as well that Yuta has no real ambitions, other than to stay alive. There is no doubt in anyone's mind that if Yuta wants to—really wants to—he can con, cheat, swindle, seduce, and/or charm everyone out of every ship, every armament, and every virgin in its possession. Johnny doesn’t even bother to keep the names of his wing mate's bed-partners straight, though Yuta insists none of them are lovers, as that will require him to have actually loved one of them. The man goes through them as fast as he goes through bottles of Chain, the drink of choice for many since it is easy to make and fast to take effect.  
  
"I've been playing by the rules. She’s sober, not an officer, and older than me. And she is only interested in physical activities," Yuta continues, frowning. "Are there more rules that I should know about that no one has bothered to mention until now?"  
  
"Did she say 'no' at any time?"  
  
"Just to me leaving. She was lonely and wanted some fun. It's not like she's an ex-lover. It is strictly sex." The lilac-haired lieutenant pauses. "He isn't upset over that, is he? Because we are physical?"  
  
"Probably," Johnny nods. How can one hope to explain the hundreds of intricate rules that have governed the human race when one is so deeply embedded in them that they are second nature?  
  
"If word got out, it would embarrass the Duke and his wife," the chief suggests. "This is probably done as a scare tactic to keep you quiet."  
  
"If they knew how often I am in here, they'd realize that this isn't that frightening."  
  
"Well, Duke Jung isn't known for his research skills," the chief chuckles.  
  
It takes less than ten minutes, and less than the usual amount of promising and swearing, to get Yuta out of the brig. As they walk away from the all too familiar location, Yuta ruffles the captain's increasingly shaggy black hair before he slings his arm over Johnny's shoulders. "Thanks, Captain, my Captain."  
  
"You do realize that if I had a coin for every time I bailed you out of the brig, I'd have enough to buy me an empire?" Johnny asks as they made their way to the lifts. "And you'd think that Security could have waited for a while before acting on the arrest warrant. I mean, it's not like you're going anywhere. We just got back from patrol!"  
  
"You and I know that, but some people..." Stepping onto the platform, Yuta shakes his head and drops his arm. "When's the last time you ate, Johnny?"  
  
"Uh—"  
  
"Thought so. Deck Seventeen." The lift's doors shut, and there is the standard fluttering of their empty stomachs as the lift dropped down a few levels. "To the cafeteria we go."  
  
Johnny smiles at his wingman. "So, let me guess, you couldn't sweet talk Jaemin and Sicheng into another game of Kismet so you went to find another kind of con to pull."  
  
"Johnny! You wound me! Or some such line." Yuta laughs as he pulls a cigar from one of his mysterious inner pockets. "No, I’m serious when I said she sought me out. Seems a friend of hers recommended going to the officer's club to find a pilot who is as lonely as she is. And while I wasn’t, I was able to do her a favor. Too bad she couldn't do me one in return."  
  
"One of these days, Yuta, you're going to climb into the wrong person's bed." In the back of his mind, Johnny notes that maybe Yuta has an oral fixation, as he constantly has to be using his mouth for something. The larger portion of his mind does its best to silence such thinking before it leads to - to things that Johnny certainly, 100%, never thinks about.  
  
"Ah, Captain." Yuta shakes his head. "I've been climbing into a lot of wrong people's beds. One day, I'm going to climb into the right one. And when that happens, I'm not going to climb out."  
  
Johnny isn't sure why he feels his blood run cold at the idea, but if his voice comes out a bit strained Yuta makes no mention of it. "Just...stay away from married women."  
  
"I'll add them to my list of Do Not Touch." Yuta sighs sadly as he turns to look at their duel reflections on the closed lift doors. "You know, that list is getting frighteningly long."  
  
-Day 120-  
  
Johnny closes his eyes and rolls his head back and forth, trying to get rid of the tension headache as well as the stiffness in his neck from so long in the cockpit facing forward. There is also the problem that after so many hours in his Stinger, the captain finds sitting in chairs awkward. Filing reports is such a chore, made worse when he has to file them as temporarily incomplete. Made worse because there is always the chance that that 'temporarily' can always become 'permanently'. Three got injured in their last sortie. None are in critical condition, which is a blessing Johnny isn't about to disregard, but there is always a chance that their conditions become worse. He's seen it happen before. Good pilots gone, slipped away in the middle of a fitful sleep from which everyone swears they will soon wake.

  
With all of the mundane paperwork in order, Johnny knows it is time to go check on them. Granted, he could have postponed the paperwork until later, but it is always best to get it done and over with while it is fresh in his mind.  
  
That and he doesn’t like going to the Medical Ward. He's learned to hate that place during the war, though he loves it while in the Academy.  
  
With a tired sigh and popping joints, Johnny stands up. He puts his report on standby, and locks up Lime Squadron's Office. Their office is placed close to the flight deck, as is the Medical Ward, but they are on opposite sides. The walk takes only a few moments, moments in which Johnny braces himself.  
  
Maybe it is the smell of the place, a smell that always makes him think of pain and blood, like ozone and laser fire. Maybe it is all the bright lights that threaten to chase away dreams with the stark reality that is their nightmare.  
  
Or maybe it is all in his head.  
  
He knows where his pilots are being kept, two to share one room, while the third shares a room with another squadron's pilot. As he approaches the first room, he sees some of his people lingering outside, resting in some of the chairs.  
  
Lt. Lee Taeyong, whose call sign is Lime Two, is holding one of his squad mates as the boy sobs on his shoulder. Pent up emotions can attack like a personal enemy, worse than even the most infamous bounty hunter, laying even the strongest low. The pink-haired lieutenant is next in line for his own squadron and a rock of stability compared to...well, just about everyone that Johnny knows. Taeyong is a good man, an excellent fighter, loyal and trustworthy, and well deserving of the promotion. If only they had enough ships and pilots to allow him his own command --  
  
In his arms, hiccuping softly is Sergeant Huang Renjun, Lime Twelve. His wing mate was one of the ones hurt.  
  
On his other side, rubbing his back reassuringly, is Sergeant Dong Sicheng, and Taeyong's wing mate. Treading forward softly, Johnny can hear Sicheng's and Taeyong' murmurs of reassurance, made more convincing because of Sicheng's medical knowledge. Dong Sicheng is a better medic than pilot, but he scores within acceptable parameters, and they are desperate for pilots, which does not hurt his career choice. Sometimes, it pains Johnny to look at him because even though Sicheng is as old as most of the other fighters, he still looks like a boy, like Johnny's youngest cousin, with youthful features framing wide brown eyes and dirty blond hair that no amount of science or cosmetology can get to remain in order.  
  
Gathering his courage, the captain straightens up and takes falsely confident steps. Johnny gives a small nod as he walks over to them. He smiles quietly as he kneels down in front of Renjun, hoping that he comes across as friendly rather than how he truly feels which is awkward. Keeping his voice soft and doing his best to keep things comfortable, he murmurs. "Hey, sergeant. No need for tears. I heard that he's going to be fine."  
  
Renjun nods, voice shaking . "I know, it's just... It is just like what happened...back home. Everything is fine, and then... BAM! Everything went all to hell, everything started failing him, and I could hear the panic in his voice, just like Kris, and... And this is his first time taking lead, too."  
  
"I know, and we'll just have to make sure that he isn't gun shy from it." Johnny doesn’t miss it when Sicheng squeezes the younger’s shoulder, offering silent support at being reminded of his last captain to whom he was assigned. "The kid has guts. More guts than sense, true. The piece of shrapnel that took out his shields didn't keep him from the fight, even though he should have realized something is wrong when his life-support started blaring its warning. But, Renjun, we got him back in working order. Soon enough, you'll have to put a leash on him to keep him back."  
  
Renjun smiles at that.  
  
"Hey, remember, he got into the squadron. He's the youngest officer to ever make it into our little family," Taeyong offers, his voice lightly accented. Johnny sees that the wet patch on his shoulder is rather large and figures that the three of them must have been out there for a while. "I can still smell the baby-powder on him! He's got more than guts, he's got what it takes."  
  
"C'mon Renjun," Sicheng says, "You are kicking ass and taking names earlier, cursing worse than the mechanics. And now look at you, all crying.”

 

Johnny waits a few more moments as Renjun tries to calm himself, before he stands up and asks, "Mind if I ask why you are all out here?"  
  
"It is getting to me, seeing him just lying there," Renjun replies, pulling away from Taeyong. "And I didn't want to...well, hover, like Jaemin doing with Jeno.”  
  
"And he didn't want to break down in front of Jaemin," Sicheng offers. "He might take it as Renjun’s playing favorites."  
  
For that cheeky response, Renjun throws the medic a withering glare that, if it had more energy behind it, might have melted force fields.  
  
"I see," the captain says. Renjun is an attractive young man with an even more attractive mind. Unfortunately for him, the moment  he’s walked into the barracks, a pair of best friends has taken one look at him and immediately set their sights on wooing him. And they want to share. It is against regulations to date a fellow officer much less kill them, but sometimes even Johnny thinks Jaemin and Jeno have given Renjun enough provocation. With an awkward pat on his shoulder, a small token of reassurance, he walks into the medical room where two of his pilots are being held.  
  
Flight Officer Zhong Chenle is in the first bed, though he is so deeply asleep that it is a wonder the monitors registered any brain activity. His tribe's  birthmark on his forearm sits in dark contrast to his pale skin. Sitting beside him, keeping the chair warm for when Renjun is composed enough to return, is Flight Officer Jung Jaehyun, Lime Nine.  
  
The other bed is occupied by Lee Jeno, while his best friend is hovering near-by. Sgt. Na Jaemin and Sgt. Lee Jeno have managed to weave their way through the military bureaucracy so fluidly that they are never separated. The manipulation of policy aside, they are perfect wing mates, able to read each other's thoughts or damn near close. Jaemin is currently holding Jeno's limp hand with one hand, while the other brushes at his best friend's forehead. Much like Sicheng's and Taeyong' soft murmurings to Renjun, Jaemin is talking very quietly to Jeno, but in a language that Johnny barely understands. They hails from Incheon, another place that was destroyed in the Great War, and Johnny knows more of their rituals than language. As is usually the case.  
  
"Did the engineers find out what happened to Jeno's Stinger, sir?" Jaehyun asks softly, looking over at the two.  
  
"A stray shot took out the gravity compensator. When he grappled onto Chenle's ship, it started going haywire. By the time we got home, his body had felt as if it had been on a high-G planet for at least a week," Johnny whispers back. Jaemin isn't paying any attention to them, too intent on his best friend, but the two would find out what happened one way or another. "Thank the stars for Tiger Lee, their last Commander. He had everyone on his station live with increased gravity. He was under the impression that it bred for tougher soldiers."  
  
"I guess he was right.” Jaehyun murmurs.  
  
Johnny smiled at him. "How are you holding up?"  
  
"Me? I'm good. Tired, but good. I mean, no one is lost," Jaehyun smiles back, deep dimples showing. "It's nice to be able to sit with them. I...I didn't have the chance to sit with...the others."  
  
"Well, I'm not about to deny the good doctors the joy of this squadron's company," Johnny replies, trying to tease.  
  
"I don’t, they might prefer it. Donghyuck's conscious." Jaehyun’s smile turns positively mischievous. "Unfortunately."  
  
Johnny chuckles. "In that case, I'd best go pay my respects. But when Renjun gets back, and you've got time, I want you to report down to engineering. I've had a talk with Chief Moon, you know, the chief mechanic working on our Stingers, and I've made sure that he understands that you're to be second-in-command of their repair."  
  
"Really?" Jaehyun asks.  
  
"They're somewhat short-handed, so he is more than willing to let you take control of the project. Seems he knows your work." Johnny says as he looks back at Chenle. "I want to make sure that nothing like this happens again."  
  
"You got it." Jaehyun nods, a bit of steel creeping into her voice. "As soon as Renjun gets back, I'll head down there."  
  
"Take your time. They've barely got our Stingers into the repair bay. I figure you've got enough time for a quick shower, a meal, and a nap."  
  
Jaehyun turns his attention back to the Jeno and Jaemin,  his determination solidfies, but he continues to smile. It is good to come home with everyone alive.  
  
The captain smirks as he enters the next room, which is holding three more of his pilots.  
  
"...And I say I'm fine. I can sleep better in my bed than I can here."  
  
"In your bed?" came the deep-voiced response. Sgt. Wong Yukhei, called sign Lime Ten, stands towering over his wing mate, Lime Eight, which isn't that impressive considering said wing mate is laid up in bed, his head bandaged from a cut and possible concussion.  
  
Flight Officer Lee Donghyuck glares up at his wingman with narrowed honey eyes.  
  
Physically, the two are nothing alike. Yukhei’s got a solidly built body, and he looks more like the ground-pounder he began training to be than the pilot into which he turned. Donghyuck, on the other hand, is small, compact, and has the appearance of someone who spends more time in the library than he does on all of his missions combined.  
  
However, they are both spectacularly stubborn.  
  
Johnny clears his throat, causing all eyes to shift to him.  
  
The captain is well aware of the rumor circulating that Donghyuck and Yukhei are lovers, but he isn't going to go out of his way to find out. If he didn't know about it, he couldn't report it. Fraternization rules have yet to be rescinded, and until they are, if they are, it is important to keep the rules enforced.  
  
There is one other member of their squadron in the room who has noticed Johnny's entrance. "Good evening, Captain."  
  
"Ten," Johnny nods to him. Lime Seven is a young man from Thailand, and one of the best sharp shooters he’s ever known. He flies with Jaehyun, though they are still getting used to the partnership, new as it is. Turning to the brunette still in bed, Johnny tilts his head to the side, "And how are you, Donghyuck?"  
  
"I'd be much better, sir, if they'd let me out of here and back to our rooms."  
  
"I don't think so." Johnny shakes his head as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "If I let you go back to your quarters, then I'd have the doctors after me, and to be quite frank, I'd prefer to go up against an entire flight of Sitrillons than two angry doctors."  
  
"See," Yukhei grins. "You're staying."  
  
Donghyuck gives an exaggerated sigh, causing some of his straight brown bangs to lift upward, as if to exclaim about how unfair it all is, and that the universe shouldn't be so against him. Johnny stifles a laugh at Yukhei's smug grin of victory. Small things mean so much, and it is in little gestures that people adapt to the new order of things.  
  
"Well, I do believe that I see everyone here...except Yuta," smiles Johnny. "I take it he's already come by and swindled everyone out of their money and conned a nurse or two to dinner?"  
  
"The nurses have been on to him since day one," Ten laughs. "No, Security came by earlier, about the time that they brought Jaemin out of the recoup-chamber. And of course, Yuta went quietly. Or as quietly as he ever goes."  
  
The leader of the most notable, most respected squadron of fighters in the entire fleet sighs with utmost, well-practiced exasperation, showing Donghyuck, who is only a few years his junior, exactly how it is done.  
  
"Well, at least you know he can't get into any mischief while in the brig," offers Yukhei.  
  
"With Yuta, that's debatable," Johnny answers wryly. He shakes his head and toes the floor for a moment before grinning at Donghyuck. "At any rate, I came to see how you and the others are doing, and since I know that you won't give your wing mate or the doctors any grief, I'll be leaving."  
  
"Yes, sir," Donghyuck snickers. "Good luck."  
  
Before he leaves, Johnny makes sure that the doctors have seen to all of his people and that they are all either going to go to bed in their bunks or have proper chairs to sleep by their wing mates. After that small task is taken care of, he makes his way down to the brig.  
  
Again.  
  
-Day 126-  
  
"Well, here we go." Chenle takes a deep breath as the simulator poars up around him. Outside the false canopy, most of the rest of the squadron are gathered, watching. He knows that Yuta will be placing bets if he is there, and Jaemin and Jeno, damn fools that they are, will be taking him up on them. Maybe the Captain will be there, too, but Chenle isn't holding his breath for it. He really isn't sure who is watching, but he'll lay money that most of them are.  
  
This is to be his first exercise as part of the squadron again, a test to see how badly he was injured and if he is ready to rejoin the Limes.  
  
As the youngest of this crew – god, he cannot wait until Jisung is legal to join, Chenle misses his best friend - he has the most to prove. He knows how to fly simulators with the best of them, as that's where he’s got his two years of training. But there is a difference between flying in a simulator and flying in a real Stinger. He's learned that first hand, and if it isn't for the completely insane schedule that Command demands of Lime Squadron, there is no telling how much real flight time, real combat time, he’s have seen. As it is, in the little over four months he's been with Lime Squadron, he has already spent more time in his Stinger than he did in the two years of simulator training.  
  
Of course, he's also spent more time in simulator training than he has in his bed since joining Lime Squadron, but that is neither here nor there.  
  
Finally, the monitors are all completely live, and the program ready to go. 'Outside' he sees a low gravity moon, dark brown and dead. His sensors read that just over the rise, there was an all out battle—'As if there's any other kind,' he thinks—and that he was following orders and waiting in an ambush that never occured. Instead, they were the one ambushed, and he was getting the recall signal. He knows his mission. He is going to be given a strange wing mate, and set up against multiple opponents. Each of the other pilots could be real people, or they could be computer gremlins. There is no way of telling until after the program had run its full course. Pushing the communications button, Chenle opens a channel to his mystery-partner. "This is Lime Eleven, who—"  
  
"This is Impulse Four," comes the staticky reply. "I'm your wing, so whenever you feel like moving, I'll be right behind you."  
  
Chenle feels his stomach drop through the floor and panic moving to take up residence in his throat. So, this is even more of a test, is it? Fine. He can do this. He can. This is... He should have expected this. He really should have. "Right. Well then, let's get this over with."  
  
Chenle fires off his jets and rockets forward, feeling the way the gravity compensators kicks in to simulate exactly what it would feel like if he were in space. Looking at his monitor, he sees his wing mate is right where they are supposed to be. Chenle watches anxiously as the rise comes closer. He can already see some of the lights from laser fire. He opens the com-channel all the way, listening to the chatter of other phantom pilots even as he hopes that it will drown out his fear. As he nears the rise, the young pilot remembers to adjust the com-unit so that he has the open channel on low while turning the volume up on the channel he is sharing with his new wingman.  
  
At that moment, Chenle is ready to give anything to have his music player with him, listening to something with heavy bass and a pounding rhythm. He always feels more comfortable listening to music when he is flying. For this, he needs something suitable for a hard fight because there is no doubt that this is going to be exactly that.  
  
Then there are no more opportunities for wishes. He flies over the rise, straight into the thick of an all-out space battle. He notes that someone has tweaked the program so that there are more enemies than he is used to for this exercise.  
  
After that, it is all he can do to keep alive. He’s lost track of time, of how many he’s killed, of the words being spoken over his communicator. He falls into a familiar flying 'zone' where nothing matters but the laser shots and the spinning planes and the death and chaos and madness around him and his wing mate. Whoever is flying with him doesn’t initiate any dialog, which is rather odd, but not all together unappreciated. Instead, there is just the usual light swearing of veteran pilots, and the flashing lights of people and machines meeting the fires of hell in space.  
  
And then it is over.  
  
The canopy above him hisses as it slowly opens, spilling the light of the training room into the small simulator pod. Chenle is surprised by the rush of cool air as well, considering that there is a noticeable lack of cold air on the NCT Hammer, especially in the training areas. It is only after he begins unhooking the straps that keeps him in the simulator that he realizes he is covered in sweat, almost dripping with it.  
  
When the canopy is finally opened all the way, Chenle is able to see who has been watching him. Renjun is there, of course, grinning like one proud elder brother. Jeno and Jaemin are there as well, each one with an arm around the other, smirking. Sicheng leans against the side of the pod, offering a hand to help him out. And Ten is there, at the control station, putting in another simulation. "So...?"  
  
"You passed." Ten replies, face breaking into a smile.  
  
"I figured that," Chenle retorts. He turns to look at the other three pods, the one that might have housed other people. Considering that no one is climbing out of them, Chenle assumes no one was in them. "But you should know, I could pass that course in my sleep."  
  
"Ah, away for so long, and yet he still retains his braggart status," Renjun says, shaking his head.

  
"It's a requirement for our squadron." Jeno laughs, while Jaemin finishes his words, and Chenle wonders why they are not twins. "You can't be in Lime without having some bragging rights."  
  
Deciding to ignore their teasing, Chenle turns to Ten and asks, "Who programmed the AI Impulse Four? It isn't nearly as chatty as some of them."  
  
"Huh?" Sicheng releases his hand and allows Renjun to give his wing mate a hug of welcome. "Programmed?"  
  
"That isn't a program.” Na Jaemin snickers. “That’s Yuta.”  
  
"Yuta?!" Chenle whips around to stare at the simulator that still holds his squad mate.  
  
"And you should have heard of him, too! He turned off the com-unit so as not let on to who he is and so he wouldn't get under your skin. Yuta is a good pilot, and while he'll brag with the best of them about it, he doesn't let his pride get in the way of getting the job done."  Renjun laughs, ruffling Chenle' light purple hair. "Of course, none of us have any idea what he is saying, he is too good at cursing in Japanese, but all things considered, it couldn't have been too bad. You made it, after all.  And yes, it’s Sicheng who ‘convinced’ Yuta to fly with you.” The doctor smirks at Renjun’s words.  
  
"Damn near broke his arm, Sicheng is twisting it so bad." Ten shakes his head as he programmes another simulation for the lieutenant. He looks up and locks his gaze onto Chenle. "You passed the assessment, though, so consider yourself back on active duty. Pity. You got more sleep as an invalid."  
  
"Yeah, well... Not so much fun staying behind," Chenle shrugs. Growing up during the war, he's come to the realization early that he doesn’t like being left behind while the others go off to fight. Mostly, it is because he doesn’t like being left waiting, worried about the others.  
  
"Well, since you passed your tests, I do believe you owe us all dinner," Sicheng says as Renjun directes his younger wing mate towards the door.  
  
"Really? If I'd known that, I'd have failed and kept my money."  
  
The others laugh as they follow the two out of the training room.  
  
-Day 145-  
  
Taeyong yawns as he debates whether or not he is going to sit down. If he sits down, he doubts he'll be able to get back up again. He and the rest of the squadron have just come in from a long patrol. A very long patrol. If asked to remember what he has put down in his report, Taeyong knows he won’t be able to give the first thing, except maybe his name and rank. Maybe. He is so tired, he doubts he's notice if the Sitrillons skins him and eats him alive. Right at this moment, he knows he will not care.  
  
Maybe a year's worth of sleep will be enough.  
  
He doubts they'll ever a full night's sleep, though.  
  
Someone once told him that humans can adapt to anything. They are experts in surviving. No matter the odds, humans will always find a way to excel. It is just sometimes it takes a bit longer than other times.  
  
There comes a light bang at the entrance to Lime's common room, and it takes Taeyong a moment to gather the energy to turn around. Johnny stands leaning against the doorframe, looking about as bad as Taeyong feels. It is no wonder, considering he and Yuta have just pulled a double shift, flying with Lime and Blue squadrons. When Taeyong speaks, his voice is thick with tiredness and his home world's accent. "Oh, captain, you look...horrible."  
  
"Thanks, lieutenant," Johnny groans. "I’m wondering if you've seen Yuta. He is supposed to meet with me for a late dinner. I owe him."  
  
"You bribed him with free food?"  
  
"No. Lost a bet." The captain sighs, "And not just free food, but real food. He wanted a real dinner when we got back, so I promised to cook for him."  
  
Taeyong blinks. Then blinks again. And then he rubs at his closed eyes with the heels of his palms. He is so tired that his eyes burn when closed. "You do realize that you're so tired you can't stand up without leaning on a wall, right?"  
  
"And?"  
  
"I'm just saying." Taeyong almost shrugs, but it requirs more energy than he’s having at the moment. It is a wonder to find out that their captain can cook, but even that discovery isn't enough to wake him up to the point of actually being able to think. He turns his head and notices that five of the other pilots are already asleep, having skips a shower in favor of actual rest.

 

Each person is assigned a small 'bunk' that served as individual rooms until a person makes rank enough to deserve an actual, honest room. Taeyong is one of the few that has seen an old aquatic battleship, the kind used on Ancient Earth, and he can easily equated their bunks with torpedo tubes, though they are somewhat larger. These areas are seven feet long by four feet high by four feet wide. The analogy stands, regardless. To get into their bunks, there is a square door, which can be opened or closed depending upon a person's need or desire for privacy. A little mark on the side of the doors tells if they have  occupants or are empty. With eleven bunks, stacked in twos, attachs to one common room, and an area of 'storage space' tucks under the final one, privacy has never really existed. Granted, they spend the longest hours of the day in their Stingers and only a few brief hours asleep. As alone as they are in their fighters, it doesn’t count as privacy, as it is more like a limbo of the two.  
  
Then again, there are times when it is better to have a lot of people around. Only Jaehyun's door is open, but he is out cold, so far gone that not even the usual war-induced nightmares can reach him. Staring at Yuta's door, he knew that the lilac-haired pilot isn't asleep yet. He just...where has he gone?  
  
"I think he's in the shower," half-groans half-whines Sicheng, who is flopped down on the only couch in the common room. "At least, I think I remember him heading that way."  
  
"Oh." Johnny nods, but then his mind catches up with the situation, which causes him to frown. "When is that?"  
  
"Um...about thirty or forty minutes ago."  
  
Johnny's frown deepens as he heads towards the shower room, which is hidden in the back of the common room. Sonic showers prevent the need for water to be used for yet another purpose and allow for the recycling system one less thing about which to worry. Taeyong, curious though his heart isn't really into it, shuffles after his captain.  
  
There is only one stall operating, as the others have either taken theirs already or have just skipped it all together. In that one stall, Yuta stood in the nude, facing the wall, but otherwise unmoving.  
  
The captain stands there, his head tilts to the side, and simply stares for a moment, his mind pleasantly blank.  
  
"He's asleep," Taeyong whispers, stating the obvious.  
  
"Yeah," agrees the captain.  
  
"You should wake him."  
  
"I will." After another long pause there comes another sigh. "You know, I was half afraid I'd have to go down to the brig and bail him out."  
  
"Again."  
  
"Yeah." Johnny's lips twitches. "But, if nothing else, this hyper-alert status means he can't stray too far from his Stinger. And therefore, can't get into trouble."  
  
They stand there a moment longer, Taeyong is wondering if the ground is as comfortable as it seemed, while Johnny continues to stare at Yuta.  
  
"This is killing us."  
  
"Not yet, it's not," replies Taeyong, though there is a noticeable lack of conviction in his voice.  
  
"If we don't get some time off... The next time we have a real battle, it'll be more than three in the Medical Ward."  
  
"Trying your hand at being a psychic?"  
  
"Stars, no. But we're human. Eventually, our bodies are going to give out."  
  
"Command will remember. They're going to have to give us some off time eventually. They can't have forgotten us."  
  
"So I keep telling myself," Johnny nodds, swaying a bit where he is standing.The captain steadies himself, and then walks over to his wing mate's side. Gently, he places a hand on Yuta's back. "Hey, Yuta, wake up."  
  
There comes a soft intake of breath as Yuta shakes himself awake. The skin under Johnny's hand shivers, and it has nothing to do with the sonic pulses of the shower. He turns slightly, peering over his shoulder before rubbing his face. "Damn, I fell asleep, didn't I?"  
  
"Standing, too," Johnny smiles tiredly. "I haven't seen you do that since the Academy."  
  
Taeyong smiles as Yuta glares at Johnny.  
  
"Yeah, well, you know that Human saying, 'The more things change...' and all that," snorts Yuta.  
  
Johnny smiles at that, actually finds the energy to smile, and it somehow takes away some of his evident exhaustion. "Since you've had a nap, do you feel like eating with me?"  
  
"You know me," Yuta laughs. "Where you go, I'm bound to follow."  
  
Taeyong chuckles at that, his tired mind thinking about an old saying about fools and angels, but before either one of them can rope him into their tired banter, he stumbles back into the common room. A moment later, Johnny emerges into the common room. He keeps his eyes on the ground, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. Soon enough, a fully dressed Yuta joins him, and together, he and Johnny leave to go grab something to eat.  
  
Stifling a yawn, Taeyong crawls into his bunk. He remembers to take off his boots, but after that...  
  
-Day 162-  
  
Johnny regards the nine members of the Council with cautious suspicion as he finishes his seven-day report. There is no outright animosity towards the councilors, as his voice remains as concise as a mechanical recording, but... Johnny doesn’t trust them. He doesn’t trust politics in general nor politicians on principle. Sadly, the higher he rises in rank, the closer he is going to have to get to the political side of military life. Understanding that fact doesn’t make it any more desirable, though.  
  
The nine councilors are sitting at a large U-shaped table, almost surrounding Johnny. It is a tactic that immediately puts the captain on guard, as he is made very aware of his 'outsider' status to the chamber. Matters are not helped by the fact that the nine Council members are all masked, and their voices distorted so that no one on the outside, none of the common people, are made aware of who makes what decision, while he appears in only a pilot's uniform. Even with his captain's stripes, Johnny can sometimes feel...inadequate. And these are elected officials, after all.  
  
Grants, the nine figures of the Council have ruled over the Empire for ages, thousands of years, in fact. Each represents several worlds, trying to make sure that things run smoothly, that interplanetary wars are avoided, and that trade run smoothly. The masks are a way for the members of the Council to blend back in with the populace once their term is over. They are not allowed to show their physical faces when running, when part of the council, nor reveal who they are after the fact. They are elected strictly by merit, not by any popularity contests. The only ones to ever know who are elected are the Council Members themselves, and their immediate families.  
  
When war broke out between the humans and the Hapnora, that tradition still stand. In fact, there are a lot of traditions that manage to survive, even if the people don’t. For instance, even though Johnny lost every member of his family, he still celebrates the family holidays; only instead of blood relations, he has his squad mates over. And none of them talks about the dead. They talks about games and about each other and anything else, but they do not mention the dead.  
  
Johnny waits for the Council to shuffle their infopads, making themselves look busy before the inquisition starts. He knew that, elsewhere, his people are relaxing. They have all, including Yuta, turned in their paperwork on time, which might have been a miracle at any other time. Now, however, it is a routine; so routine that it is second nature. Just like it has been in their nature to want to fly.  
  
But, that doesn’t mean that any of them wanted to live in their cockpits. And it is time that the Council remembered that. They are people, not machines, and they need some time off. Being on constant alert, ready to fall out of their beds and into their Stingers, is getting to them. Johnny sees it in their faces, though it has yet to truly show in their performance. They are all too afraid of something happening to each other to allow themselves to slip up. Be that as it may, they still need time off and more than an afternoon to go to the Empathy Era. They need a vacay-pass to either Limitless or The 7th Sense, which are the only two pleasure ships that remain working within their armada of over 500.  
  
When the questions come, Johnny answers them automatically and precisely, as this is also part of the routine. These questions are simply a rehash of the same ones they ask him every time he recounts any and all engagements with the enemy. They asks about tactics, ship designs, and weapons used, as well as what kind of 'feeling' that Johnny gets from the last skirmish. As if he had some kind of empathic skills! It isn't until they asked, very dismissively in Johnny's opinion, about his people that the captain breaks from the routine.  
  
"And your people, how are they?"  
  
"Tired, sir," Johnny  replies."The never-ending alerts, the need to remain at constant battle readiness, the lack of time to recover from injuries, and the long patrols that they routinely fly are wearing on them."  
  
"Oh?" another council member asks.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, my people are exhausted. If they don't get a break soon, their performance is going to drop, and then their lives are going to end," Johnny continues. "I hope I don't need to remind you that Lime Squadron is one of the main lines of defense for this Fleet, and we do rate the highest for kills as well as survival. That reputation is justifiably earned, but even we can't keep up this constant paranoia indefinitely. We are, after all, only human."  
  
"Your concern has been noted, Captain, and rest assured we are doing everything in our power to promote recruitment among the civilians," yet another councilor remarks. Johnny feels his heart fall to his stomach as he hears the same voice ring out, asking, "Is there anything else you would like to make mention of?"  
  
It isn't quite the standard question that is usually asked after the less than enthusiastic concerned question for his pilots, but it is close enough that Johnny knows that he and his pilots aren't going to get any relief any time soon. And that it is pointless to ask if he can offer a promotion to Taeyong. Forcing himself not to grit his teeth in vexation, Johnny gives a sharp, "No, sir."  
  
"Very well, then. You are dismissed."  
  
Johnny gives a parade-perfect salute before he spins on his heel and walks out of the Council Chamber. He refrains from stomping away like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum, though the idea does have some appeal. However, such outbursts aren't going to help the situation. No, he needs to think of something that will increase morale while still keeping them close enough that they can scramble for their fighters within moments.  
  
"Hey, Johnny!"  
  
The captain stops dead in his tracks, his head turning to the side as he sees Yuta heading towards him from a side passageway, an unlit cigar in his mouth. Johnny smiles in welcome. "Hey, Yuta, what are you doing down this way?"  
  
"Oh, just the usual," shrugs Yuta.  
  
"Please, tell me you're staying out of trouble," the captain almost begs.  
  
"You know me."  
  
"Yes, I do, and that's why I'm asking."  
  
Yuta merely laughs as he puts the unlit cigar back into a cylinder container and then hides that somewhere in his uniform. Not for the first time, Johnny wants to ask where the other male can buy the noxious things, but knowing Yuta as well as he does, it probably isn't anywhere legal.  
  
They rides up to the troop deck and makes their way to Lime Squadron's office. Taeyong is still there, though he isn't doing work; he is trying to balance a spoon on his nose. Johnny doesn’t even blink at the sight. Instead, he walks over to his desk and flips on his com-station while Yuta goes to the café-dispenser.  
  
Not that it matters who else heard him, Johnny is relieved that it is only Taeyong and Yuta around for him to vent a little. "I asked for vacay-passes in the debriefing."  
  
"Yeah?" Taeyong asks, accidentally dislodging the spoon.  
  
"Yeah," sighs Johnny. "Mission aborted, too."  
  
"Damn," mutters Yuta as he pours two cups. He puts a healthy amount of sugar in one and a small amount of cream in the other. "What do they think we are? Automated pilot programs?"  
  
"I've no idea," Johnny replies running a hand through his recently trimmed black hair. He smiles and nods as Yuta hands him the cup with the cream. "But if they don't start giving us pilots some off time, there's going to be a mutiny. And that's going to be a disaster."  
  
"Nah, I don't think it'll come to mutiny," Taeyong dismisses Johnny's despairs. "The pilots are too tired to mutiny."  
  
Johnny sips his café and tries to think. He turns to regard Yuta, who's found two chairs, one in which to sit and one on which to put his feet. "I'm open to suggestions on how to handle things."  
  
Yuta slants him a look, one of pure carnal mischief. Johnny averts his eyes and focuss on Taeyong instead. The pink-haired lieutenant sighs and shakes his head as he leans back in his chair. "I've no idea."  
  
Johnny also leans back in his chair, holding his café up so that it is just under his nose without having to actually drink it. "What about... What if I talked with some of the other captains, not just here on NCT but also on SEVENTEEN and others, about rotating the squadrons? Give the squadron at the top a week at the bottom, and allow others to slowly climb to the top."  
  
"Wait, you want us to go to the bottom of the list of squadrons? You want us to take up the trainees' schedules?" Taeyong grimaces. "That...almost seems like an insult."  
  
"And do you really think that Serenity can handle our shifts?" Yuta asks. "No offense to them, but...well, lets face it, they're second because they're second best."  
  
"Yes," Johnny nods as the idea begins to form, "but this would allow them more field time, more flight time, and more fight time. A test, of sorts, for all of them, at one week intervals."  
  
"Yeah, and what, in four weeks the trainees would be the main line of defense?" Yuta asks, his feet dropping to the floor. "Thank you, Captain, but if it comes to that, I think I'd rather eat my gun. It'd be a lot faster and cleaner."  
  
"No, they'd never rise above the next to last tier. The resting squadron would jump from the relaxed rounds past them to the next tier." Johnny's eyes narrow. "Unless they actually manage to get more Stingers and more pilots. But I honestly don't see that happening any time soon."  
  
"This is, of course, assuming any of the other captains would go along with it," Taeyong reminds them, trying to prevent them from daydreaming of time off. It gets depressing after a while. "There's a good chance that they're too smart to volunteer for our suicidal schedule. I doubt even the guys from Grey Squadron would want our shift, and they're just plain crazy."  
  
"Well, why wouldn't they? This would mean that, eventually, they would get to experience the sheer terror that is 'Being the Best', plus they'd get some R&R after the fact," nods Yuta. "It's not every day that an Archangel gets to fancy himself or herself one of the elite."  
  
"Lieutenant," warns Johnny. Yuta clamps his mouth shut and returns to nursing his café. The captain nodds slowly, before he turns his attention back to the problem at hand. "I'll find out who's willing and who's not. In the meantime, what else can we do?"  
  
"Throw a party?"  
  
Taeyong and Johnny both look at their friend.

  
"What?" Yuta asks. "I'm serious."  
  
"How would a party solve anything?" Johnny returns slowly, knowing that he'll definitely regret the answer.  
  
"Parties are celebrations. You've said it yourself: we need all the celebrations we can get. So, instead of waiting for a specific day to roll around, which only comes once a year, why not throw a party 'just for the hell of it,'" Yuta smiles. "It'd be a way to unwind, to de-stress, and to increase morale. We're not celebrating our dead here or some martyrs who died for some strange, unreachable cause. We're celebrating life. And to do that, we have to live."  
  
"Yeah... I can see where he's going with that..." Taeyong nods his head, and even Johnny has to admit that the idea does make sense.  
  
Yes, they can all use a bit of comfort. And if they invited others, such as the tech staff... Relationships might actually develop that will not have to worry about the Fraternization rule. That can potentially lead to a chance for families to start again.  
  
"Plus!" Yuta adds, interrupting Johnny's dangerous thoughts. "I'm dying of thirst, and nothing cures that like a good, stiff drink."  
  
-Day 171-  
  
Johnny leans back against the rear fin of his Stinger. He is alone on the flight deck, with all the lights out save for the energy lights around the force field that keep the vacuum of space out and the atmosphere in. There isn't much in the way of strength behind the force field; he can easily toss a paper crane through it, and the matter will become nothing more than a piece of space debris, but the energy field is enough to keep the air in.  
  
It also provides a spectacular view of the stars. With as much time as they spend in their Stingers, it is easy to imagine that even he will grow royally sick of seeing that vast expanse of nothingness littering with points of light.  
  
But Johnny knows. He knows that he will never grow tired of seeing the mystery that is just outside of that thin layer of energy and metal.  
  
Besides, he isn't really looking at the stars. He is...looking for a moment of mindlessness. A moment when he doesn’t have reports to file, or people to look after, or mundane chores to do. A moment when he doesn’t have to think at all.  
  
And he has found it. For a moment.  
  
The sound of boots hitting the deck interrupts the captain's moment of solitude and mindlessness. Without turning from where he is sitting, Johnny knew exactly who his visitor is. A moment later, the solid figure of his wingman, smelling of cigars and cheap liquor, settles next to him, one leg draped down. They sit so close to one another that their bodies touch, from shoulder to hip.  
  
For another moment, neither one of them speaks. During that time, Johnny manages to close his eyes and actually...relax. He always, always feels more relaxed around Yuta. He understands that it is because he trusted Yuta like he trusts no one else, though why he does that is a question that the captain doesn’t seek for an answer.  
  
"I tried your apartment first. And then the cafeteria. And then the office," Yuta says quietly, by way of greeting. "I figured I'd try here and then the Medical Ward. After that, I am going to call security."  
  
"I am too tired to sleep."  
  
"Oh." Yuta nods. There is another long pause of silence, wherein time passes as smoothly as the stars outside. "I thought it is because...you know, with it being your sister's birthday and all."  
  
"It is?"  
  
"Yeah, didn't you remember?"  
  
"No. I didn't." Johnny’s eyes are kept close, but a frown mars his brow for a moment, before smoothing out again. "It doesn't matter. It's not like... It's not like I need to get her a present or anything."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
It is on the tip of Johnny's tongue to ask if Yuta misses it, misses home. But he doesn’t ask. If he broaches the subject, there is no telling where it will lead. "What are you really doing here?"  
  
"I came to find you, to make sure you are okay," Yuta  answers honestly. "That's what wing mates do, they look out for each other."  
  
"Oh." Johnny's lips twitches slightly.  
  
"And it's been a while since I've seen you. Usually, we can get together for at least a meal and a drink. But here lately..."  
  
"You know, I could really use a drink right about now," Johnny thinks aloud.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Actually," he clarifies, "I could stand to get roaring drunk."  
  
"I haven't seen you do that since...since graduation."  
  
"I know, but damn, if I don't think it'd be a good idea." The dark haired male sighes. "I've been busy talking with the other captains, trying to work out a rotating shift that all would agree works. The problem is, none of them want to go by any of the general rules and regulations and hierarchy. Worse, they want to try to reorganize the existing one."  
  
"And make your life as complicated as possible, I take it."  
  
"It seems like it, yes."  
  
"Well, I'll tell you what, one day soon, I'll arrange to make your wish come true." Yuta smiles, one of his true, genuine, and healing smiles. "And I'll get you not only roaring drunk, but fall-down-on-your-face drunk."  
  
"That sounds beautiful."  
  
"Just don't expect me to hold your head while you repaint your latrine in body fluids."  
  
Johnny chuckles at that, rolling his head from side to side.  
  
"Hey, Johnny?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Mind if I ask you a personal question?"  
  
"Not at all." Johnny opens his eyes and turns to regard his friend. "Go ahead."  
  
"I know you aren't big on dating, even when we are at the Academy. And since the Great War, you've been even less inclined. But... Why? Why don't you date?"  
  
"Because the only people I see on a day-to-day basis are other military personnel, and it's against regulations to date another officer unless they have no way of being in the power dynamics as to interfere—"  
  
"No, that's why you don't date other officers. But there are citizens here. There are non-combatants. Why don't you date any of them?"  
  
Johnny turns away, focusing back on the star field in front of him. "I just don't."  
  
"Is it because you miss your home world?"  
  
"Don't you?" asks Johnny automatically, mentally cursing himself for treading in areas he doesn’t want to go.  
  
"I never had a home world. Remember, I was an Osaka pet. A very pampered one, too, until the heiress got it in her head that I'd be 'better off with my own kind' or some other such insanity. Turned from a family pet to a pack mule for the war machine, which isn't as bad as being cattle-meat, I assure you, but still." Yuta snorted.  
  
Johnny turns back to look at Yuta. "You enjoyed that, didn't you. Being someone's pet."  
  
"It is home. It is safety. It is the only life I knew," Yuta shrugs. "Would I go back to it, again? I don't know. I mean, they did dump me off on...what is that planet again? Tokyo? Something. And when I wouldn't go run off and play with the strange creatures that lived there, they shot me. So here I am. Learned then and there that there is no going back, sorta like you did on D-Day. And, so, here you are."  
  
"Strange creatures." Johnny grins, ignoring the reference to the day they lost the war, really and truly.  
  
"Well, you all are." Yuta' lips twists with irony. "I swear, as soon as I figure out the rules you all live by, someone goes and changes them. And its like everyone knows about it but me."  
  
"The universe is like that."  
  
"No, it's not the universe. It's just you Humans."  
  
"You're human, too, Yuta."  
  
Yuta turned to stare right into Johnny’s eyes. "I may be fluent in the language, but that doesn't mean that I'm Human, not like the rest of you all are. I'm also fluent in Japanese, but that doesn't make me anymore Japan than you or a Thailand, or hell, even a Hypnora."  
  
The captain is the first to look away, as Johnny is made somewhat uncomfortable by the...intimacy in such a look. The intimacy of the moment. At the same time, he doesn’t want it to end.  
  
After another loaded pause, Yuta continues, his voice softer than it was a moment before. "Don't get me wrong, I'm trying to act Human. I really am. I guess it's why I'm so good at games. I'm good about learning rules. Doesn't mean that I always follow them, just about all the brig officers can vouch for that, but I do know the rules are there. It's just... Every time I try to be Human, try to act as Human as everyone else around me, I end up feeling...inept, I guess. Like, everyone knows that I'm just faking it, and it amuses them but it doesn't help me make myself...more like the rest of you."  
  
"Yuta," Johnny begins, but then has nowhere to go. "Is there ever a time when you...don't feel like that?"  
  
"When I'm flying and during sex." Yuta' answer comes quickly, as if it is something he's thought about a great deal.  
  
Johnny suspects he has.  
  
"When I'm flying, it isn't important if I'm Human or something else. I'm simply part of the Stinger, and it's part of me," Yuta whispers with such wistfulness that Johnny knows he isn't alone in never growing tired of the stars. "And during sex...it's about the only time I feel that there's another person as human as I am, human like I am."  
  
"As human as you are?"  
  
"Yeah. Stripped of everything that makes you all Human, with a capital H, and nothing more than base need and animal sounds. They're like me then. Uncivilized by society and... Yeah. It's why I got so good at...how did someone put it? Seduction?" Yuta shrugs, "Doesn't really matter. It's all just physical. I don't want any of them for my mate; I just want to feel...something. I don't know. I'm not lonely, not like some of the rest of you are, because I know that I'm the only one out here like me, and I accept that. Accepted it long time ago. But..." His eyes finally move away from Johnny to stare out at the stars. "So, why don't you date?"  
  
"Because, Yuta. Just because."  
  
"Maybe because you don't want to be reminded of how human you are."  
  
"Maybe." Johnny shrugs, though there is a part of him that realizes the truth to his friend's assessment. Glossing over that frightening sensation, the captain says again, "Maybe."  
  
They sit there, alone, in the dark for a while longer. How much longer, Johnny has no idea because, eventually, he drifts off to sleep, his head sliding down to lean on Yuta' shoulder.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is i hope i don't forget things or mess up things

-Day 182-  
  
Taeyong gives a slight smile as he reads the reports of what is considered news for some of the other ships. Just a few short years ago, he never believes that humans could exist in such a manner as they are at that moment. And not only are they existing, not just surviving, but they are picking up the pieces of their lives and trying to put things back together again.  
  
Religions might not be thriving, but they are still there. And there are other things, things some associated with home while others consider them just another part of life, like daily hygiene. Rituals are being performed, everything from weddings and holidays to weekly poker games. Granted, there is no seventh-day feast any longer. There is no nightly family gathering around a console. But those aspects of family life, of living conditions, while miss, don’t detract too significantly from the whole.  
  
Living conditions have changed, but not so much for the pilots. They've always had little in the way of possessions and privacy. They've always had to deal with communal living.  
  
Stars help the squadron that don’t form a tight family-like atmosphere. If there ever forms factions within a squadron, then they are all doomed. And while there are sub-units within this squadron, they all manage to pull of being a working family-unit style living arrangement. Granted, as far as Taeyong is concerned, this is one of the more screwed up families he's ever had the pleasure of which to be part.  
  
Sicheng is curled up on the edge of his bunk, reading an infopad and open to conversation if anyone wants to talk but otherwise content to be by himself. If Taeyong were more of a betting man, he'd wager a week's pay that it is a new piece of mystery-fiction. With as much free time as some members of their fleet have, there comes a demand for new stories, and there are a surprising amount of people willing to try their hand at appeasing that need.  
  
Chenle, Jaehyun, and Renjun are sitting on a hodgepodge of equipment, talking. Or rather, Renjun and Jaehyun are talking, while Chenle is typing something on his infopad. Who can even know, maybe Chenle is one of those aspiring storytellers.  
  
Ten is in a corner by himself, carving a piece of wood. The last time someone  asked what he’s been hoping to create, Ten smiled at the person until they changed the subject. Taeyong, being the smart man he is, has gone to the databanks and done a bit of research on Ten's people. Seems that part of his people's courtship is carving an instrument, such as flute or harp or something, and winning prospective suitors with a song. Usually, this is done by the females, to show off their talents, but there are some notable exceptions.  
  
Aren't there exceptions to every rule?  
  
The table is occupied by Yuta and Jaemin and Jeno. The second-in-command merely shakes his head with exasperation as he realizes that the other two are, once again, trying to beat the lieutenant at another game of Kismet. 'You don't want to screw around with Kismet's favorite.'  
  
On the other hand, maybe it isn't so much that he is Kismet's favorite. Maybe it is just because Yuta is damn near insane, but in such a way as to not be overtly threatening. More like a strange subversive threatening, the kind that starts revolutions under everyone's wide-open eyes without being seen. Yuta is all kinds of messed up, and part of that is because of how he is raised. Yuta has his own rules, his own morality, and his own perception of what is right and wrong. Taeyong silently prayed to whatever deity is still around that when, or if, he ever gets his own command, he will never have to deal with someone as screwed in the head as their lilac-haired lieutenant. Sometimes it is just hard enough being Yuta's friend; it’s near impossible for Taeyong to be his commanding officer. The man just doesn’t listen.

  
In fact, there are only two people Yuta is willingly listen to: himself and Johnny.  
  
"I win, boys," Yuta laughs, breaking into Taeyong's reverie.  
  
Jeno and Jaemin sighs in discontent and throws down their cards in a movement that should have been practiced to be that synchronized. While one begins to speak, the other finishes, which somehow makes Taeyong wonder if they were twins in different life. "How do you keep winning? We know you aren't psychic, the cards aren't marked, and no one is helping you. But no one can be as lucky as you."  
  
"Ah, see that's where you're miscalculating." Yuta smiles as he starts gathering up his winnings. "I'm not lucky. I'm just that damn good."  
  
Jaemin snorts. "Yeah, right. Whatever."  
  
"You shouldn't boast, Yuta," Jaehyun pipes up. "It's unbecoming. And it's also a way to jinx yourself into future failings."  
  
"It's not boasting when it's the truth." Yuta smiles at Jaehyun, one of his most charming, and then winks. "I am the best."  
  
"Uh-huh," Sicheng drawls, not bothering to look up from his story.  
  
"Speaking of unfounded rumors," Renjun smiles "I'd like to know if what I've heard is true. Is the captain, OUR captain, trying to arrange us to have not only some leave, but also a dance?"  
  
"A dance?" Yuta asks, his money momentarily forgotten.  
  
"A formal party," Taeyong quickly clarifies for him. Turning to regard Renjun, he asks suspiciously, "And where did you hear this rumor?"  
  
"From one of the mechanics working on my Stinger."  
  
"You shouldn't listen to rumors," Ten says as he peeled closely at his work in progress. "If the captain wanted us to know something, he'd tell us. Plus, rumors just get you into trouble. They're all lies."  
  
"Actually, it's a proven fact that the grapevine of any organization is 75-95 correct in the rumors it spreads," points out Chenle as he looks up from his infopad. "Plus, it'd take someone really creative to come up with a rumor like this. I mean, OUR captain? Planning a dance?"  
  
Ten looks up from his piece of wood and blinks. He nods his head as he lets the thought slide through his mind. "Point."  
  
"Well, I don't know about a dance, per se," Yuta begins, only to be cut off by Taeyong.  
  
"But he is trying to get us some down-time." There comes a soft uproar of relief at this. They are all feeling the pressure, the strain of living on the edge and knowing that they cannot take time to wipe away the sweat from their eyes much less rest. "As for a dance... Ask Yuta. It is his suggestion. Whether the captain took him up on the idea or not is beyond me."  
  
Yuta grins as several pairs of eyes focus solely on him. "Well, I'm not really sure if he gave me the go-ahead or not, either. Truth of the matter is, it doesn't really matter. I've made arrangements with one of the cargo-hold managers and have spoken with our tech-crew and a few others. Suffice it to say, whether we get leave or not, we will be having a party. And it's not going to be just us. The techs are going to be there, some mechanics, and, well, others that I've invited. Only the most proper of people, I assure you."  
  
Everyone chuckles at that, knowing that Yuta' definition of 'proper' can mean any number of things.  
  
"Figured even though we're the ones in the Stingers, the ones handling our babies can use a break, too." The lieutenant shrugs elegantly before producing a cigar to mouth.  
  
"That's very sweet of you, Yuta,"Jaehyun smiles, somehow more relaxed at that moment than Taeyong can remember ever seeing him.  
  
"Hey, like I said, it's not bragging when it's the truth. I am just that damn good."  
  
-Day 196-  
  
Yuta curses in Japanese over his com-channel even as he pulls into a tight barrel roll. The stars spin outside of his canopy but the bandit on his tail refuses to be shaken. Taking a chance, he divides his attention between the target behind him and one of the dozen of other targets littering their battlefield.  
  
Dodging another laser attack from behind, the lilac-haired pilot manages to shoot at one of the enemy ships chasing after one of his squad mates.  
  
"Please use Standards, Yuta. I don't understand Japanese." Johnny's voice can barely be heard through the distortion caused by the com-channels and the pulse pounding in Yuta's ears. Even as the Captain speaks, the blip on Yuta's screen that indicates the attacking craft disappears.  
  
"Sorry," Yuta laughs, an edge of hysteria to his voice. Glancing quickly at his monitor, he finds Johnny right behind him. "Just thinking out loud to myself."  
  
"Oh, a first. You thinking," comes the retort. They roll together, away from another attacking ship. Johnny has never believed that something can actually 'come out of nowhere' until today.

 

They had been on a rather routine—read: boring—patrol, the squadron flying in a long line, broken up by pairs, and then, 'out of nowhere,' new and dishearteningly improved Sitrillon ships appeared, shimmering into attack formation. These new ships are black as a patch of starless space and shaped like smooth darts that are deadly quick. The attack had been so unexpected that he was already engaged before the thought of flipping his sensors' recorders on crossed his mind. They had started off even if only in numbers, twelve against twelve. Fortunately, though the enemy ships seemed faster and more maneuverable, the pilots in them were somewhat slowẻ on the uptake. Thank the stars that the rule that a weapon is only as good as the individual who uses it holds true for every species. "Someone, please tell me you're recording this!"  
  
"I'm getting it, Captain." It is Yuta, his voice smiling through the distortion. "And if you follow me, I'll get a bit of their maneuverability data as well as their basic outer design specs."  
  
"I've got your back, Three." With his heart in his throat, and a desperate fluttering in his stomach, Johnny rolls to the left, following his wingman. He  is fully aware that Yuta doesn’t like to lead. His wingmate would rather fly behind someone, making sure they get out alive, rather than leading his wingman into a situation that he or she might not make it out alive. Still, it is part and parcel of their occupations, to put their lives on the line.  
  
In and out, over and under, the pilots of Lime Squadron, and especially Johnny, are grateful that in space, every which way is up, and the only gravity they feel is in response to their thrusters as they weave through the battlefield. If he had to do this in atmosphere or with any kind of gravitational influence pulling at him, he knows what will remain of his lunch would be plastered all over the interior of his cockpit. He acknowledges the fact that he is the only one who can keep up with Yuta and has been since they graduated from the Academy, but that is just barely.  
  
The captain knows that when he gets back to base, he is going to have to go to the Medical Ward. Surely, repeatedly swallowing your heart from when it jumpes up your throat is a sign of poor health. He can blame it on exhaustion coupled with anxiety and fear, fear at the insane chances Yuta is taking. Sweats bead over Johnny's upper lip as he does his best to keep up with his friend, dodging around starbursts of exploding ships and past the dazzlingly lethal shots of laser fire, all the while following one specific Sitrillon ship and keeping an eye out for any other attacking craft. Fortunately, it seems that his wingman understands Johnny's health situation because even as Yuta records the enemy's flying, he fires two rounds, neatly obliterating the new weapon.  
  
The others are taking care of themselves with equal precision, the light chatter coming over the open com-channels calling out warnings and wild victory yells.  
  
And then, just as quickly as it began, it is over.  
  
Johnny looks around, checking out the windows of his canopy as well as on his scanner, making sure that there aren't any more targets. "Status, people."  
  
The captain listens with half an ear as everyone reports in, noticing only minor damage to some of their ships. The adrenaline high is dying, and he sits back heavy in his seat. He knows that if his hands weren’t full with piloting his ship, they'd be shaking. He feels weak and vulnerable, just sitting there, and it is all he can do to regulate his breathing.  
  
"Thank the stars," Taeyong murmurs over the open com-channel when everyone has finally tallied up the damages. No casualties.  
  
"Where the hell did they come from?" Jaehyun asks, swooping through the debris field, getting clear of the floating shrapnel.  
  
"I have no idea, but where the Sitrillon go, the Hapnora are sure to follow. Everyone, back to base."  
  
There is a chorus of acknowledging signals, and as one, they turn back towards the base.  
  
"Lime Six here, are those Sitrillon ships, sir? They don’t look like any I've ever seen before."  
  
"They have the Rock-Faces' insignia on their dorsal-fins," Donghyuck replies.  
  
"Lime Two, here. Do you think there's a chance that those ships are unmanned? I see they didn’t respond like a normal."  
  
"Whether they are or aren't, it doesn't matter right now. We need to get the flight information back to the rest of Command," answers Johnny.  
  
"If those are new ships, let's hope that they failed their test flight," adds Yuta. "I don't like that cloaking skill. It could prove troublesome."  
  
"Not to mention that now, we can't do long range patrols. There's no chance for a sleep cycle with those things able to pop out of nowhere." Nine intones.  
  
"Command is going to have a field day trying to salvage parts from those ships," Sicheng piped in.  
  
"Why do you say that, Lime Twelve?"  
  
"Well, sir, to quote some of human sayings, 'they blowded up real good'. Not much is left of them once the lethal shot hit."  
  
No one can argue with that fact, they are just thankful that none of the bits of debris left at the battlefield are parts of them.  
  
Yuta curses in Japanese.  
  
Johnny has only a vague idea of what his wingman has just said, but that doesn’t really matter. He figures he can’t agree more with the sentiment behind it. "What is that, Three?"  
  
"We're probably not going to know how they got the jump on us," Yuta replies. "I only turned on the recorder after the battle was engaged. There's no information on their arrival."  
  
"They'll get their information from our reports. That's what they're for," returns Johnny.  
  
"Pardon me for being bruisingly honest here, but with as tired and overworked as we are, Command will probably dismiss our claims that they materialized from nowhere. They'll suggest that we just missed them, due to their camouflage." Ten's com-channel holds none of the sarcasm and contempt that the others know are in his voice.  
  
"Point taken," the captain nods, though no one can see the gesture, "but since there's nothing we can do about that, we'll leave it for now. In the meantime, everyone, keep your eyes open. We don't need them ambushing us, and we especially don't need them following us home."  
  
It is a tense flight back to the base, everyone keeping their eyes open for more surprises, and their scanners on maximum. The only way they can know they aren't being followed is when they aren't attacked, but waiting for things such as that are always hard on the nerves.  
  
-Day 205-  
  
Johnny wakes with a sharp cry, his arm outstretches as if to reach for someone who will never be able to grab his hand. Even in the dark, Johnny can see his hand tremble in the air.  
  
Cursing softly as he runs a hand through sweat-soaked hair, the captain knows that it will be a while before he manages to fall back to sleep. How sad is it that when they finally manage to get time off enough for a decent night's rest, nightmares prevent him from enjoying it?  
  
He knows he should get used to them, the images and sounds from the Hapnora farms they have invaded in their attempts to free their fellow humans. Each farm they have flown over is like a mini-hell, but there is one particular farm that is truly horrifying. They underestimated the number of people there and overestimated their own arsenal. The planet was highly guarded and justifiably so. Hundreds of humans were there, waiting to die, to be canned or packaged or however the Hapnora process their food. The task force arrived, slipping in through a few of the enemy' defenses, but not all of them. The claxon sounded before the first ship touched the ground, and enemy drones were more than happy to welcome them to that hellish planet.  
  
Sometimes, Johnny still wonders what he could have done differently. He is a pilot, not infantry, and it’s his job to remain with the transport for when the retreat is sounded. Usually, he flys his Stinger in strafing runs, but for this operation, every available shuttle was needed, and they had more shuttles than shuttle-pilots. Johnny volunteered to be the one to pull in survivors, and the one to block the exit when the transport became too overcrowded. Yuta was his co-pilot on that mission, thankfully. Who knew what would have happened if Yuta hadn't have been there.  
  
It isn't the scream of the Sitrillon flying through the lower atmosphere in their strange aircraft that is haunting the captain, though he has every reason to fear that sound. It isn't the sounds of the infantry's attack or the resulting chaos over the com-channels. The images that keep haunting Johnny are of the humans they are rescuing. Or rather, the images that have been lingering behind Johnny's eyelids are of the people they left behind. They - No, HE abandoned them.  
  
There was one woman who was among the last to arrive at the ship, which had already been overcrowded and weighted down with passengers. All of the other ships had already taken off, overburdened with refugees. This woman, this one particular woman,  had taken one look at Johnny - and she knew. He could see the horror in her ice blue eyes as she reached for him.  
  
He always sees her eyes. They chase him through worlds he's seen only in his dreams, or through the burned out wreckage that is his family estate.  
  
A child was at the back of the mass, so far away from the transport that Johnny couldn't have gotten safely to him even if he'd had the time. His hand held firmly to one of the infantrymen's hands, refusing to let go, as they ran towards the crowd. Two flashes of light, brilliant among the sea of other flashes, one for the child and one for the soldier. They didn't get up. That child couldn't have been more than seven years old; too young to remember a time when there hadn't been a war.  
  
There was a man among the crowd, another image that Johnny knows he will never forget. The skin of his back was peeled off, like the outer epidermis of an exotic fruit. He should have been in a hospital or dead, but he was there, begging to be allowed to leave with them. He clung to Johnny's flight jacket, screaming and praying and crying.  
  
It is Yuta who saved him from being dragged out of the transport ship, pulling on the back of Johnny's jacket even as he shoved his foot into the man's face, kicking him out the door.  
  
Those doors closed on hundreds of faces, and the small ship was filled with the sounds of the refugees they could take, and the mad scrambling and clawing of hundreds of hands against steel, of people they were leaving behind. Johnny turned to his wingman and saw those eyes filled with - something. Something that Johnny couldn't ever remember seeing at any other time, before or since. And unlike most other times, it was Yuta who was the first to break eye contact, moving back to the flight controls.  
  
No one knows what the Hapnora actually look like, but everyone thinks that they must be part demon. At least part devil. But when push comes to shove, Johnny doesn’t care. As far as he is concerned, the Hapnora look like the fear and horror he's seen in their victims' faces. The certainty of death. The wild desperation to cling to life, no matter who pays for it.  
  
That trip also played hell with Johnny's fear of being in crowded areas, as there was no room on that transport ship, hardly enough air for all of them. He focused on flying the shuttle and on the sounds of Yuta's soft voice as his co-pilot tried to talk him down from a full-blown panic attack. Stars, but there was so little air!  
  
With a deep, regretful sigh, Johnny swings his legs over the side of his bed. He pauses there, trying to regain his equilibrium and his breath. A real shower might help, but he is running low on water rations. Staggering slightly, the captain makes his way over to his sink and fills the small basin up with cool water. Taking a small cloth, he wets it and runs it over his sweat-sticky skin. Then, deliberately slowly, he towels himself off.  
  
He is exhausted, far past the point where he needs to sleep, but just thinking about climbing back into bed makes his skin prickle. With a sigh, he resigns himself to going for a walk. He grabs the nearest pile of clothes, clothes he's climbed out of not three hours prior, and begins to redress.  
  
Maybe Yuta— 'No, if he isn't in the brig, then he's sleeping. Yuta needs his rest, just like everyone else. I will not go see if he wants to go have a drink to chase away nightmares.' Johnny snaps the buckles to his boots. He is still putting his shirt on as he steps out of his apartment.  
  
He has no particular destination in mind, just a need to get away from his bed. The captain is grateful that at least he has stopped dreaming about his family. He's managed to shut that mental door without shedding too much emotional blood, though he knows that their deaths are still a stain on his otherwise orderly life. He will give anything at that moment to be able to escape his memories, but he knows that that isn't going to happen. Best to deal with the things he can handle, and what he is best at handling are his duties.  
  
Without conscious thought, he finds his path taking him to the hangar where his Stinger is, as if that is the only natural place to be. Since he has no other place to go, Johnny allows himself to walk all the way there. Their hanger, Hanger 32, is shared by two other squadrons, and it isn't unusual to find the tech crew manning the area like overzealous ants, meticulously keeping an eye on the equipment and the ships at all hours.  
  
However, this time, when Johnny arrives in the Hanger, he discovers a most unusual sight. A Recruiting Crew is there, filming. It is heartening, in a mad sort of way, to see that the propaganda machine is hard at work, creating a spot for the enrollment of pilots. Even though his mind is fuzzy, the captain's attention is captured, and he moves closer to the filming area.  
  
The distinct smell of cigars is the only real warning Johnny gets before a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. "Hey, Johnny, what are you doing up at this hour?"  
  
The captain turns slowly into the hand, so that the small contact is never broken. "I could ask you the same thing. I thought for sure you'd be resting."  
  
"Damn, you look like shit." Yuta gives his long time friend the once over, one eyebrow raised. "Ghosts?"  
  
Johnny smiles with relieved appreciation. That is Yuta, being less than tactful, yet less than straightforward with wondering about nightmares. "Yeah. Ghosts."  
  
Yuta nodded, and then looks over Johnny's shoulder. He flicks his other hand, which still holds his smoking cigar. "Why don't we get out of here, before they recruit us to be in their commercial, and you can tell me all about it. Or, if not tell me all about it, then at least drink with me until the ghosts can't talk anymore."  
  
"That sounds like a beautiful plan," Johnny chuckles, moving so that he drapes an arm over Yuta's shoulder. He doesn’t bother to ask what Yuta is doing out in the hangar, and he doesn’t ask why the other isn't out with someone else if he can sleep.  
  
There are some things he figures he is better off not knowing.  
  
-Day 212-  
  
"What is your name before you changed it to Ten?"  
  
Dark brown eyes blink over the rim of a mug of warm cider. The recipient of the question finishes taking his sip, letting the apple-flavored drink swirl over his tongue. When he is satisfied with the sip, he very carefully puts the mug back down on the tabletop and stares at the young man who stands beside him. "To ask such a question is considered rude. But, because you are my squad-mate, I will tell you that the person I was before is now dead."  
  
"So, what are you like before?" Chenle persists, his words slightly slur due to the amount of drink, decidedly not cider, he's already had. Stars, whoever let Chenle drink will not hear the end of Renjun.  
  
"I was like anyone else." Ten smiles softly as he turns to look out at the rest of the gathering people. Everyone who works in their hangar, and who have Stingers docked there or who are somehow connected to their squadron, are present. Yuta has promised a party, and a party is what he has delivered. Ten knows the drink of which most of the others are partaking is more or less smuggled in, and no one asks how the techs have rigged there to be music. Those things aren't important, though.  
  
From the tool table where he’s sitting, Ten is able to see several of his squad mates. Taeyong is dancing with a tall mechanic, and the expression on his face is one of pure pleasure. For a moment, Ten wonders how long it has been for their almost-captain since he last danced. More to the point, how long has it been since he went out with someone? The squadron is all well and good and a great second family, but there are some things to be said for actually getting out and dating. It isn't healthy to live just enough to know when one dies.  
  
Beside Ten, Chenle slumps to the tool table, laying his face against its cool surface. Ten reaches over to make sure that he is all right and found the young man has passed out cold. With a soft chuckle, he searchs the crowd for Chenle’s self-claimed adoptive brothers. Renjun stands next to Jaehyun as they are talking with a group of other pilots with Sicheng pantomiming a battle for them all.  
  
A sharp laugh draws dark brown eyes to the Captain and Yuta. It is strange to see the Captain among the citizens, but there he is, with Yuta right next to him. Looking at the two, it is hard to tell how stiff and uncomfortable the Captain usually is. It is a sign of how good things are at that moment that even the Captain is able to relax his guard and be comfortable in his own skin.  
  
Turning back to his unconscious companion, Ten ruffles Chenle’s hair. "You’re missing a great party, kid. You a should learn to hold your liquor better."  
  
Looking over Chenle's head,  Ten can see Donghyuck and Yukhei off by themselves, watching the party, and he cannot help the small smile that tugs at his lips. Yukhei is leaning over as he speaks, looking out onto the crowd. Donghyuck is leaning in to listen, his body angled so that he isn't standing in line or parallel, but at what Ten’s sister once called 'the coupled angle'. They are an open secret, and about the only person that doesn’t know about them is the Captain, but that is only because their dearest Captain goes to such great pains to remain in the dark.  
  
The sharp-eyed sniper glances back at the man in question. He is leaning towards Yuta, one hand holding his glass while the other is used to help illustrate his story. Yuta is leaning towards him, one hand on the other man's shoulder, trying to see what is only visible in the Captain's mind.  
  
The presentation of the two catches Ten off guard for a second. His first impulse is to think of the Captain and Yuta as a couple, with the way that they are standing as if neither of them had any thoughts to personal space or appropriate distance. If Yuta wants to, all he has to do is turn his head just so and kiss the Captain, and it will seem to be a natural thing to expect.  
  
That cannot be right, though.  
  
This is, after all, the Captain. Their Captain.  
  
Granted, this is also Yuta. But, Yuta has never tried for any of the other squad mate's beds. And Ten has yet to see him take advantage of anyone who isn't completely sober. In fact, the few drunken passes he has seen made towards Lime Three, Yuta’s been more disgusted than interested in.  
  
Sharp eyes blink before turning to regard Donghyuck and Yukhei again, trying to compare the two. Donghyuck blushes at whatever Yukhei has just said, looking at his feet and shaking his head. The former infantryman smiles as he tips his glass in a mock salute to the smaller male.  
  
The sniper turns to look at their Captain again, just in time to see Yuta refill his glass, the other hand touching the Captain's elbow. It is a strange dance those two are playing. Briefly, Ten wonders if they even realize that they are partaking of it.  
  
Yuta is too good at reading body language not to know, though. But the Captain, oh, _the Captain._  
  
Ten looks around the hangar, watching the rest of the party, realizing that many of the others are too inebriated to be paying attention to anything more than what they are doing. Or are too caught up in their own lives to be watching others. Ten wishes his sister were here, or someone who is better at reading body-language, just so he can have the confirmation of his suspicions. Forcing himself into a relaxed position, Ten continues to watch the two sets.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jeno and Jaemin. Ten thinks, briefly, of how close they are to each other. They are always touching, always leaning in to talk to each other, at least Jaemin seems unable to keep his hands of Jeno for more than three seconds. But, they have a way about them that is something more than to what any other couple can compare. Ten doesn’t bother to use them as a basis of comparison because Jeno and Jaemin are more a single person with two bodies than anything else, too much of a single mind to ever separate a thought.  
  
The sharpshooter watches as Yuta begins to tell his own story, no longer able to touch the Captain because he is trying to mimic the other man's story-telling method. Ten is surprised to see their Captain, whom he can only imagine is being 'Johnny' at that moment, reach out and touch the other male. Just – well, put his arm on Yuta's shoulders and lean into him as if it is the most natural thing in the world. This, from a man who seems more touch-starved than anyone Ten has ever encountered before. Ten doubts he has ever seen Captain give a reassuring hug without stumbling.  
  
"Hey, Ten," Donghyuck greets as he sits down at the tool table. Beside him, Yukhei gives a laugh of greeting, which Ten returns to them both, before Yukhei sits down on the other side of his partner. "I see you're stuck babysitting. You want us to take care of him so you can dance?"  
  
"I don't dance," He replies automatically, glancing beside him to make sure Chenle is still there, still unconscious, and still alive. "And it isn't any trouble, watching him."  
  
"Oh, okay," nods Donghyuck. "It just seemed like someone gets your attention all of a sudden."  
  
Ten just smiles as he looks towards them. "I am sorry to disappoint."  
  
"I see that look in your eyes," Yukhei notes. "Who, or what, has caught your attention?"  
  
For a moment, Ten considers not answering them or, at the very most, giving them a half-truth, which just shows how long it has been since he was among his own kind. His people are not ones for lies and consider them poisonous to the soul. "I've been watching the Captain and Yuta."  
  
Just mentioning their names has the other two searching for, and finding, their fellow pilots. Together, the three of them watch as Yuta refills the Captain's glass, again, and continues to talk with him.  
  
"That glass never gets past half empty," Ten murmurs. Louder, he asks them"Do you notice how...close they seem?"  
  
"They're best friends,"  Yukhei says right before he takes a sip of his drink.  
  
"Uh-huh," agrees Ten. "That isn't what I am talking about, though."  
  
There is a prolonged pause in which Donghyuck studies the other two men like one of the puzzles he uses to love to put together. During the quietness that rests over the table Donghyuck realizes some of what Ten has noticed. "Do you think...?"  
  
"Sometimes I do," Yukhei jokes when his partner manages to not finish the question. "I try not to too often, though. It usually gets someone else in trouble."  
  
"Yeah. Me," Donghyuck laughs. He shakes his head and tries again. "But, I'm more interested in Ten's question. I mean, he does seem a bit—"  
  
"Shit-faced?" Yukhei interrupts, wary of where any conversation involving a superior officer might lead. "Yes. And I, for one, am glad to see it."  
  
"Yeah?" Donghyuck asks as Ten looks at Yukhei.

  
"It means he has blood flowing through his veins, not just regulations and rules." Yukhei nods, but his eyes are narrowing with suspicion as he watches his lover. "Why Yuta has given him so much, and keeps giving him more, I don't know and don't want to know."  
  
Donghyuck shakes his head before he tilts his head to the side, almost laying it on Yukhei's shoulder. Watching them, he manages to voice what Ten cannot. "Do you think there's something more between them?"  
  
"Nah," Yukhei answers. "Tonight is an exception to the rule. Stars, the Captain is too hung up on the regulations to allow himself to break them. I mean, Yuta had to drag him here earlier. Literally."  
  
"True." It is no secret that their Captain has no plans of attending the party, but has been brought under protest to the hangar by one very stubborn lieutenant. He flushed furiously once he arrived, greeted some of his people, and retreated to an out of the way corner with Yuta. Their Captain is not a social creature, but it is nice to see that he can actually relax.  
  
"What if the rules are to change?" Ten asks, the wheels in his head slowly turning as he scratches lightly under his chin. "What if... What if someone petitioned for the fraternization rules to be rescinded? And what if they are?"  
  
As sharp as his eyes are, this close, his ears are more than able to hear the double intakes of breath as the others two turns to look at him.  
  
"That's a lot of 'what if's,'" Donghyuck warns.  
  
"How...?"  
  
"And think of all the things that will solve," continues Ten, downplaying the fact that if the rules are changed then no one will have to hide anymore. Court-martial during a time of war is rare, but they still happen.  
  
"No more fraternization rules," Yukhei intones, letting the idea gain weight in his mind. "It would offer more chances for us all to find spouses to raise children with."  
  
"New rules for a new way of life." Donghyuck shakes his head, ever the practical one. "The Captain wouldn't like it, though. He may be relaxing tonight, but he's very attached to the rules. Hell, a lot of people wouldn't like it. The fraternization rule is there for a good reason."  
  
"But—"  
  
"How many people do you know of that would put the mission over the lives of their lovers?" Donghyuck asks rhetorically. "Especially now, when there are so few of us left. We're all desperate to cling to whatever life we can scrounge up for ourselves."  
  
"It is everyone's nightmare to fall in love, and then to have that person stolen from them," Ten chides. "As soldiers, we are not alone in that nightmare. Even the civilians dread it."  
  
"Yeah. Death's knocked on just about everyone's door," nods Yukhei. Thinking about it, he knows that if it came to a choice between Donghyuck and the mission, he'd choose the mission. It is what he is supposed to do. He wouldn't like it, but he'd do it. He just hoped that Donghyuck would do the same for him, leave him behind or kill him, in order to complete the mission, but he isn't so positive that the other male would. "We all make sacrifices, though."  
  
"But for some of us, there are prices that we can't, or won't, pay," Donghyuck whispers just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the rest of the room. Of the twenty-seven planets that have been within the Human Territories, Donghyuck from one of the smaller ones. His people are estimated to make up less than one percent of the half-million refugees because the Hapnora prefer to farm his people to any other.  
  
To that, Yukhei has nothing to say. Instead, it is Ten who breaks the heavy tension. "You know there is a new recruitment strategy underway. They have finally realized how desperate the pilot situation is and are begging those old enough to be free of their parents and young enough to still be of use to join the military. I've seen two of the commercials and have heard the propaganda. It should be interesting to see who signs up to fly with us."  
  
Neither of the other two conscious men needs an explanation of who 'they' are. Both of them understand perfectly that it is the Ruling Council. "So, we might be getting some relief?"  
  
"That would be nice,"nods Yukhei. "More breaks, more free time..."  
  
"Yes, but! If they are too good at their job and sign up every available hand or even just the majority, then who will be left to breed new life for them?" Ten smirks. "If the fraternization rules are not cancelled, it could lead to an even further reduction of our peoples."  
  
"You are not going to let this go, are you?" Donghyuck his head in disbelief.  
  
Ten smiles. "My father said I am very persistent. My mother said I am merely stubborn. It is my grandmother who said I am incredibly tenacious."  
  
"I don't know if you'll be able to win this debate with just sheer stubbornness and philosophy," Donghyuck retorts, though he is pleased to know more about the usually secretive Ten's past. He is exceptionally tight-lipped when it comes to his personal history.  
  
"Well, first, we should probably talk with the others, see what they say. And I definitely think Jeno and Jaemin could help. They've managed to stay together through everything. With them working the legal side and some of the rest of us working the history and ethical reasoning... I'm sure we could come up with something." Yukhei nods slowly, an idea forming in his head already. "Someone might know someone who knows someone who knows someone who could make our thoughts into reality."  
  
Donghyuck narrows his eyes with suspicion. "You're talking about bringing in others outside of the squadron, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes," Yukhei grins. "If it's seen as a united front, with a lot of backing, we might be able to win the council over."  
  
"Tactics," Ten smirks. "I like it."  
  
"Now, all we have to do is put the plan into action."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Donghyuck sighs as he brings up his almost forgotten drink to his lips. "I still say that the Captain isn't going to approve of it."  
  
"We could do it without him, maybe," Yukhei thinks out loud.  
  
"How?"  
  
"We'll find a way." Yukhei shrugs as he assures his partner.  
  
"And if we can't find a path, then we'll make one," agrees Ten, dark eyes narrowing.  
  
The three of them sit there and watch as Yuta half carries the Captain out the door, taking him home.  
  
-Day 227-  
  
Johnny sits in his room, on a chair that has seen better days. In front of him, a lone infopad is waiting for his signature and a promise to show up in dress uniform with the rest of the rebels. He's heard rumors, just like everyone has, that some of the pilots has started a petition to get some of the rules changed, but he really has no idea that it is his own squadron behind the madness. Eleven signatures from his squadron are at the top of the list. The only one absent is his own.  
  
What are they thinking?  
  
Don’t they understand? Don’t they realize that the rules are there for a reason? Don’t they see that it is the rules that kept them safe?  
  
Fraternization...  
  
A chime at the door causes Johnny to look up. Before he can give permission for his visitor to enter, Yuta opens the door and walks in.  
  
"Hey, Johnny," grins Yuta as he proceeds to find a place of his own to sit. As he climbs onto his captain's couch, he leans forward to see at what the other man is staring so intently. "I see the petition has found its way to you."  
  
"Yes, it has," Johnny replies slowly, looking up from the small apparatus to his guest. "I have to know, just what the hell do you all think you're doing?"  
  
Yuta jerks at the question but continues to sit down. "What?"  
  
"Yuta..." Johnny sighed as he scrubs his face with dry hands. He takes another deep breath before he drops his hands to his lap. "Yuta... You've spent most of your adult life breaking the rules that govern the rest of us. Sometimes, it is because you aren’t aware that they are there. Other times, you just want to be contrary. But the rules are there for a reason, Yuta, and it isn't just to make sure we follow some strange, incomprehensible morality. But... Rules are there for a reason."  
  
"I know that. Just because I break them doesn't mean I don't understand the concept behind them," Yuta replies with a shrug. "I also know that it's easier for me to break the rules than it is for someone like you because you were raised with so many of them whereas I wasn’t.”  
  
Johnny shakes his head as he stands up. How is he going to make Yuta understand? And if he cannot get Yuta to understand, how is he going to get the rest of his people to back off this course of insanity?  
  
"And you're forgetting about the times I break the rules because I think they're ridiculous."  
  
Johnny turns around and glares at his friend, his fear nearly choking him. "And just who gave you the right to pick and choose which rules are the ones to follow and which are the ones to discard? Rules are an important part of our society, Yuta. They give us structure. They give us order and stability. They are what govern us as a people. They keep us safe."  
  
Yuta’s eyes flash with the first blossom of his infamous temper. "Keep us safe from what, Johnny? Ourselves? Are we children that can't go about our lives without hurting one another?"  
  
"Sometimes, yes."  
  
"News flash, Captain, you aren't in charge of a flight of preschoolers," Yuta shots back, standing up. "We're all quite capable, intelligent adults."  
  
"Oh, really?" Johnny asks with obvious sarcasm. "I want you to remind me of that next time you get thrown in the brig over a woman. Or when you or any of the other pilots think with your damn libidos rather than your brains. Like you're all just a bunch of—"  
  
"DON'T!"  
  
Johnny quiets but doesn’t calm down as he and Yuta take deep breaths. It is either be scared or be angry, and he'd much rather be angry.  
  
"Don't you dare," Yuta is seething, Yuta whose smile can brighten the darkest days is seething. "Just because you are too afraid to go out and try to find some token of happiness—"  
  
"This isn't about me," Johnny responds heatedly. "This is about disobeying orders—"  
  
"Like hell it is!" Yuta takes a menacing step forward, one hand balling into a fist at his side. "This is about you, me, and everyone else in this fleet. Why are you so insistent on denying your people the opportunity to be happy? I mean, stars, this is all that's left of the human race, here. Let us have some kind of love life."  
  
"If they want to find lovers, then they are allowed to do so," Johnny returns, "but not with other soldiers."  
  
Yuta puts his hands on his hips and gives his captain a withering look. "Johnny, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but it's not like anyone has a lot of time to date. We've barely gotten enough time to sleep much less find suitable partners."  
  
"That hasn't stopped you."  
  
"And we all know how well I follow orders," Yuta mocks. Trying to be reasonable, he continues. "Even you've talked about how you don't see anyone outside of the service. That's why you don't date, remember?"  
  
At a loss for words for a moment, Johnny jumps to another concern. "If you do this, the Council will court-martial you all. Every one of you who've signed the petition. I'd be surprised if they don't have guards waiting at the Council Chambers to escort you all down to the brig once you get there."  
  
"First of all, I know the brig better than everyone outside of security, and I know for a fact that it won't be able to hold every single person who's already stated they're going to show up, much less the people we've collected signatures from. Second, even if they could find a place to put us all, who's going to protect the fleet if all of the soldiers are in the brig? You? By yourself?"  
  
"Do you think the Council is going to care about that?"  
  
"Do you think we give a damn?" Yuta shouts. "As pilots, as soldiers, our lives are short enough, but we have the chance to do something with them, here and now, that'll be felt not just by us, but by everyone else in this thrice damned fleet. We have the chance to make sure that whoever follows us into this hellish life at least will have the chance to find happiness and love without restrictions placed on where they can look for those needs. Our lives have changed, Johnny. Hell, our entire universe has changed. Our rules should change, too, and adapt with us."  
  
"The Fraternization rule is there for a reason, Yuta. It's to maintain order and discipline, to prevent someone from having to make the decision between the mission and their lover. If the soldiers won't obey orders, if our chain of command dissolves, then what does that mean for our society?" Johnny asks and then quickly answers himself. "We won't survive!"  
  
"There is a difference between survival and living. If all we have in our future is mere existence, is just survival, then what is the damn point to this? We cease to be a species worth saving if all we're doing is just getting by." Yuta throws his hand in front of him, as if wiping something away. In a somewhat quieter voice, trying to control his notorious temper, he asks. "Don't you get it, Johnny? We want to live, really live life, and to do that, we need the ideas and emotions that go with that. Love and happiness and so much more."  
  
"It's against the rules."  
  
"You keep saying that as if that's justification."  
  
"It is!"  
  
"Fuck that!" Yuta reverts back to shouting. He runs a hand through his hair, twisting where he stands before he returns to glaring at Johnny. "You know, you've been hiding behind the rules and regulations for as long as I've known you, but since the destruction of Chicago, and the death of your family, you've become so fucking by-the-book as to have almost no personality unless it is written there."  
  
"Now, wait one damn minute—"  
  
"Fuck, no! No, you listen to me, Captain." Yuta scowls. "I understand you to an extent, better than just about everyone else on this ship, but there are some things even I don't get. I remember your family—"  
  
"You leave my family out of this, Lieutenant."  
  
Yuta ignores the command. "I remember the first time I met your mother, and how she welcomed me, a nobody, with open arms. I remember your sister and brothers, and I remember your father. You had a home, a kind of home that some of the rest of us just dream about, and now that they're gone, you've retreated to following the rules to the letter, trying to keep a hold of your rank, as if that's all you have left."  
  
"Look around, Yuta. My rank is all I've got."  
  
"Screw you, too, Captain, because last time I looked, you also had me and the other members of Lime Squadron, or are we so damn insignificant to you that you'll just as soon toss us away as break one damn rule?"  
  
"No, but—"  
  
"Your family wouldn't have wanted this for you."  
  
"I said leave my family out of this!" the captain barks. That is territory into which he doesn’t want to go, an issue he doesn’t want to touch. Better to let them rest in peace, silent and dead in his memories. "Let me ask you this, Yuta: if you know so much, why stop with one rule? Why not go ahead and try to change them all? While you're at it, why not go ahead and go back to the bloodlines of our ancestors to choose who leads us?"  
  
"That's absurd, and you know it."  
  
"But what's to stop someone else from trying to start another petition? Who are you, who are any of you, to decide which rules make sense and which ones are tossed aside?"  
  
"We're the ones who are directly affected by this madness, and who are sick and tired of merely surviving. You may be content to hold back and ignore your emotional wounds, but the rest of us aren't."  
  
"You just want the rules changed so you can have more lovers."  
  
Yuta jerks back as if he's been struck, his eyes widening in obvious disbelief. "If you believe that, then you don't know me as well as I thought you did."  
  
They stand there, breathing heavy, as if they've just run an obstacle course.  
  
"Fine, Captain," Yuta says at last, breaking the increasingly oppressive silence. "Fine. If that's how you want it, then that's how it's going to be. You have your existence, while we try to build lives for ourselves."  
  
Johnny has to lean back suspiciously.  
  
"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd abandon your people to keep your rank, but I guess I am wrong. Of course, I never thought you'd be this damn close-minded, either." With clenched fists, Yuta stalks over to the door. He extends one hand to the door lock and turns to look over his shoulder at the still glaring captain. Yuta doesn’t bother to hide the disgust in his voice as he says, "Keep your damn rank. And I hope it offers you comfort when the rest of us are facing the Council without you."  
  
Johnny is left alone in his room, staring at the closed door, still taking deep breaths.  
  
He is wrong. Yuta is wrong. They are all wrong. The rules are there to protect them all.  
  
Johnny glances down, noticing the petition is still on his table. With a snarl, he picks up the infopad and throws it against the closed door. Watching the small computer portal shatter doesn’t improve his mood, as the infopad is merely the messenger, not the central databank where the real petition is stored.  
  
Suddenly weary, Johnny goes back to his seat and collapsed into its giving frame. What is he going to do? Or rather, what is more important, his people or his stability? And does he have the strength to do what needed to be done?  
  
His rank is all he had, but the others... Can he live his life as he has been, without the others? Without Yuta?  
  
Johnny sighs as he drops his head into his hands again, resting his elbows on his knees. If his father were there, he'd know what to do. Or his mother. Even his sister might know what to do. But they aren't there, and they aren't ever going to be able to help him again.  
  
For the first time in a long while, the captain allows himself to remember...  
  
He is the first-born son of a very prominent House back on Chicago, able to trace his lineage back over seven thousand years. And while his family respected the rules, they were not cold. When he first introduced his mother to Yuta, she smiled and said, 'Well, opposites do attract.' His father was a bit more tight-lipped about their guest, but Yuta eventually managed to charm him as well. Everyone enjoyed Yuta’s company, and in their letters to him while he was still at the Academy, and later when he was stationed on various stations and War Hammers, they always asked about Yuta. In fact, when he was still in the Academy, and his mother would send him care-packages, she would always sent Yuta his own box.  
  
Thinking about it, Johnny remembers one time at the Academy, when his mother sent them both care-packages. It was sent for one of the many festivals held back on Chicago, at a time of thanksgiving. They promised her that they wouldn't open them until they both had theirs. And then they had to open them together. His mother sent him some texts he'd requested, candies, and some clothes.  
  
Yuta received many of the same items, but he also received a small picture-globe, one that held an image of his last visit. Most were of him and Johnny, but there were others of the rest of the family, some of the many family dinners they had eaten together, and one of Johnny by himself. He remembers  the look of pleasure on Yuta's face as he sat down and went through the softly glowing images. He remembers his friend's usually cocky voice whispering, 'It's nice, that they're including me, letting me in your family. I...thank you.' As far as Johnny knows, Yuta still has that picture-globe, keeps carefully in his locker, though the clothes have long since been ruined and tossed away.  
  
They've been through a lot, he and Yuta.  
  
Can he...?  
  
His rank or his friend. That is the matter. Stability versus uncertainty.  
  
"Oh, stars, Mom, what am I going to do?" Johnny asks softly, his voice muffled by his hands. Sitting there, feeling more alone than ever before, Johnny allows himself to do something he hasn’t done since before the destruction of his home world: he cries.  
  
-Day 237-  
  
Johnny glares at his reflection in the shining surface of the lift doors. He's always hated his dress uniform, and with the addition of his medals and ribbons, the thing becomes increasingly wretched. He hopes whoever designed this thing had been duly shot. Usually, he only has to wear it for funerals, and it has been a while since he attended one of those, which is a double blessing.  
  
He doesn’t know what is worse: the boots, the pants, or the jacket. The boots are shined to parade-perfection the entire length up to his knees. The problem is, they are also incrediblely stiff, and if the emergency battle claxon are called, he and the rest of his people will have to throw off their shoes before they get in their Stingers. The form fitting pants are just as uncomfortable, and a shade of white that his mother once called 'egg-shell'. And the jacket... The black jacket has a mandarin collar that sometimes feels as if it are trying to throttle him. Both his pants and his jacket have cobalt piping, which is a symbol of his home plane. At least the dress hat isn't so bad.  
  
Their regular uniforms are so much more comfortable, especially after practically living in them for so long. Though, to be fair, the flight suits does come with plumbing. Well… what is one supposed to do on long patrols?  
  
Then there are the medals he has to wear that only a jeweler will appreciate, such as the large Silver Pulsar he wears over his heart. The Silver Pulsar is usually given when a General or Admiral is retiring for dedication to service, and the fact that he's received it is something of an exception. Johnny knows for sure that he is the only one in the entire fleet who's received one.  
  
The Captain takes a deep, calming breath as the lift comes to a halt. As uncomfortable as the uniform is, it isn't the only reason Johnny is uneasy. It has only been that morning that he has decided to join his squadron before the Council. He spent most of the remainder of his time searching for his various medals and getting ready. As it is, he is grateful that he hasn’t eaten anything that day, as the knots in his stomach would have been much worse.  
  
The lift doors slide open soundlessly. On the other side of the entryway stands Yuta, who is also in his dress uniform, though his lacks any kind of piping since he does not claim a Home World. Johnny takes a step back as he tries to prevent the usual full body twitch that results from every time he sees his friend in his dress uniform. He hasn’t seen or spoken with Yuta in four days, and now that they are once again face-to-face, Johnny finds his voice failing him.  
  
Dark eyes slowly look Johnny over, from head to toe and then back up as the pilot steps into the lift. "So, you decided to join us?"  
  
The captain curls his shaking, white-gloved hands into fists and places them behind his back, as he replies quietly, "Yes, if you still want me with you."  
  
There is a momentary pause as the two looks at each other. Finally, Yuta smiles, "Deck Six."  
  
Johnny gives a small, shaky smile as the lift races upwards. "Care to tell me the battle plans for this mission?"  
  
His lieutenant chuckles as he moves to wrap one arm around Johnny's shoulder, giving him a half-hug. "It's good to have you back, Captain, my Captain."  
  
Johnny releases his clasped hands and rests one around the back of Yuta' waist.  
  
"As for plans, we've enlisted the help of one of the colonels off of the SEVENTEEN to be our spokesman. Colonel Kwon. You know those Intelligence Officers on the SEVENTEEN are very...devious. Jaemin and Jeno are his back-ups," Yuta replies. "As for the rest of us, we're pretty much just there for show, unless someone wants to ask us a question, but the likelihood of that happening is slim to none. We've also called in the vultures—I mean, reporters, so every ship within the fleet should be receiving coverage of the events."  
  
"The Council is allowing reporters in?"  
  
"Oh, they tried to bar them, but...let's just say that some of our surviving journalists have as much of a death wish as the rest of us because they are very...adamant about witnessing the proceedings."  
  
"It sounds like a lot of strings are pulled in order to get this thing going."  
  
"You've no idea," Yuta shrugs, his arm still draped over Johnny's shoulder.  
  
The lift comes to a slow stop, and the doors slide open. Johnny expects Yuta to drop his arm, but instead, the lieutenant uses it to steer them both towards the Council Chamber. "You're right, and for that, I'm sorry."  
  
"Hey, I understand," Yuta waves the apology away. "You are worried – and scared.”  
  
"Yeah," Johnny nods. "And truth to tell, I still am."  
  
"I know." Yuta smiles as he drops his arm. "But you're here now, and that's all that matters."  
  
Johnny drops his arm as well and follows Yuta down towards the Council Chamber. Along the corridor there appear groups of people, and the closer they go towards their destination the thicker the crowds become until Johnny's earlier fear becomes eclipsed by his rising terror. Yuta seems to sense his growing panic, as he reaches for the captain's hand and begins pulling him further into the mass of air-stealing bodies.  
  
Once they make it into the actual Council Chamber, the numbers have dropped down, but there is still a large number of people gathered. Looking around, Johnny is able to see delegations from not just their ship, but also from the SEVENTEEN and even EXO, as well as medical ships and a delegation of people that are distinctly civilian. And of course, there are also the reporters who are taking as many pictures of the arriving swarm as they can.  
  
Yuta leads them towards the first row benches, where the rest of Lime Squadron is sitting. Only Jaemin and Jeno are missing from the nervous group. Yukhei sits on the far edge, fingering his medals. Beside him, Donghyuck is thumb wrestling with Renjun, both of whom are concentrating on something other than what is about to happen. Sicheng pulls nervously at the yellow piping of his jacket, trying to pull off invisible lint. The others are displaying further tale-tell signs of nervousness. It is gratifying to the captain, in a sense, to notice that he isn't alone in being anxious.  
  
Mostly, though, it is good to know that he isn't alone.  
  
"When you didn't sign the petition, we thought you aren't going to come," Taeyong says by way of greeting as he stands up.  
  
"I wasn’t," comes his honest responds. Johnny has never been so afraid in his life, afraid that they will reject him, but he knows they deserve the truth. "But..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"What changed your mind, sir?" asked Chenle, his voice breaking due to the stress.  
  
Johnny swallows as he looks at Yuta. "I took a long look at my life and everything in it."  
  
They all know, more or less, his past, and they seem willing to forgive his delay in accepting of their fight. There are soft murmurs of acknowledgment as they welcome him back into their group, back into their family. Taeyong motions Chenle to scoot down some, forcing all the others to move as well, making additional room for him and Yuta. Before Johnny can sit, the Councilor's doors open and nine masked figures move towards their seats, which in turn forces everyone to stand up.  
  
As each of the Council Members takes their places, the rest of the room falls silent. Even the people in the hallway, through the open door, become still. As one, the gathered people take in a deep breath. It is time. Johnny practically feels it, that deep intake of breath that seems to rob the room of its available oxygen, as if someone opens a hatch door and depressurizes the room.  
  
"You may sit."  
  
And just like that, the air becomes available again. All around, people who have seats take them, while those who are left without one have to stand.  
  
"Today, we nine gather at the bequest of a plaintiff. Will the petitioner step forward?"  
  
"I am the speaker for all those who've signed the request." In the space before the robed figures, a colonel steps forward, his voice clear and loud, and behind him, Jaemin and Jeno stand at parade rest.  
  
"We will hear your request, your reasoning, and we will give you our verdict. But know this, Colonel Kwon, that by taking up this cause, you and everyone else who've signed the petition will face repercussions," states one of the councilors.  
  
"Yes, we understand," Colonel Kwon replies, pitching his voice so that it will carry back to the people in the furthest rows of the room. "I also realize, Council, that if I and the rest of us are court-martialed, this hearing will not matter because there are not fraternization rules for civilians."  
  
Another councilor gives a a dark chuckle. "Considering the number of petitioners who've signed this application, we can ill-afford to dismiss all of you from service. However, this does not mean that your records will remain clean of this disobedience."  
  
Perhaps it is Johnny's paranoia, but he imagines the nine masked figures in front of him are looking solely at him.  
  
"We are willing to accept the cost," accepted Colonel Kwon. He nods his head, and Jaemin brings forth infopads to place in front of the mysterious rulers. "But not all of the signatures on our petition belong to people who are in the services. They are the parents and families and friends of service members. It is not just the military that wishes for this rule to be rescinded."  
  
"Very well, then," comes a fourth voice. "Is there a voice for the opposition, to keep the regulations as they are?"  
  
"Yes, I am Colonel Choi of EXO Stinger.” Johnny twists where he is, trying to see the other colonel, but is unable. After a few tries, he finally gives up and sits back quietly. He has other, more pressing concerns.  
  
"Then let us proceed with your arguments."  
  
"We, the people of the services as well as the fleet, place before you a request to strike down the Fraternization Rule..."  
  
At some point during the introduction speech, Johnny finds himself distracted by the rising temperature of the room and the discomfort he feels from his dress uniform. He would prefer to arrive in his standard attire, even though that usually puts him at a position of disadvantage. He knows behind him is an ocean of people, watching and waiting for the results, who are simultaneously stealing all the breathable air.  
  
"...aware of the limited number of humans remaining..."  
  
Breathe in slowly. Johnny is aware of the press of Yuta's body next to his, the cloth of their uniforms rubbing together.  
  
"And I ask you, Colonel Kwon, if you are all so interested in the possibilities of increasing the families within this fleet, then why are you ignoring the reality that children of two soldiers have an increased chance of becoming orphans as compared to other children?"  
  
For the first time, Johnny is grateful that he has been to so many council sessions and knew how they go. He allows himself to zone everything out and forces himself to concentrate on just breathing.  
  
"...in regards to morale..."  
  
Just breathing.  
  
"And what would happen if these romantic relationships are to terminate, and the two soldiers are no longer able to work together?"  
  
As long as he is breathing, nothing is wrong.  
  
"...changes..."  
  
There is enough air for everyone. No one is stealing his share.  
  
"...tradition..."  
  
The captain becomes so focused on fighting back his panic that it takes him a moment to realize that one of the Council of Nine has called his name. When they repeat it a second time, Johnny's eyes snap open and the fighter pilot slowly stands. "Yes, sirs?"  
  
"Captain Seo," one of them begins, "we notice that your entire squadron is first to sign this petition. In fact, this small rebellion began with your squadron, and yet, we are unable to find your name listed with them. In fact, we cannot find your name anywhere on this petition."  
  
Johnny blinks, waiting for the inevitable question to be asked.  
  
"Might this Council inquire as to why you did not sign your name along with the rest of your squadron?"  
  
"I did not sign the petition, Councilors, because I have always followed the rules governing us." Johnny looks directly at the councilors, avoiding the looks that others might be giving him. "It is a decision I regret."  
  
"You regret following orders?"  
  
"I am a soldier. Death, regret, and sorrow are part of my life. I am not the only soldier here, either," Johnny says as he comes to a parade rest, his feet shoulder width apart and his hands placed firmly behind his back. "We know that our lives do not belong to us, they belong to the people we protect. But while we give our lives freely, our hearts are a different matter. When have we, as a people, as humans, ever been able to control who we fall in love with? This petition asks that we be allowed something more than the certainty of combat and the probability of death. We are asking for the chance to love without restriction. We are asking for the chance to live."  
  
Johnny falls silent as he hears agreement from the hallway, wanting others to hear the voices of others. There is a low murmuring around the room, and Johnny notices the way the nine hooded figures shift at the growing sound. "A very impassioned plea. But tell us, why now?"  
  
Johnny fights the urge to turn to his wingman. "Because our world has changed. And it's time our rules changed with us."  
  
"You may be seated, Captain Seo."  
  
Johnny sits back in his seat, mildly surprised at how unsteady his knees feel. As he sits back on the bench, he notices Yuta' smile and can't help the small blush of heat. Keeping his voice pitched so only Yuta could hear, the captain whispers, "I'm human, Yuta, just like you. Part of that is being able to admit when I'm wrong."  
  
-Day 247-  
  
As far as celebrations go, Johnny doubts he’s been to one this joyous even before the Great War. Once again, one of the hangars has been transformed into a festive area. This time, though, the invitations are extended far outside of just the people who work within its confines. The captain leans back against the wall, watching as the newly married couples take to the dancing area and the lights dim around them.  
  
Ten days.  
  
Ten days ago, their world changed again, at least partially. They are still the last remnants of the Human Empire. They are still running scared. They are still trying to make do with the things they are having on hand.  
  
But now --  
  
Johnny has heard the rumors about Yukhei and Donghyuck, but he's always done his best to avoid finding out the truth. Looking at them now, as they dance together, he realizes how much effort it has taken him to remain ignorant. Only someone completely blind can miss the looks they share.  
  
Yuta arrives beside him, carrying an extra glass. "Enjoying the show?"  
  
"Just thinking," he captain answers, taking the offered drink. The concoction burns on the way down, but in a good way.  
  
"Oh, a first," Yuta laughs. "You thinking."  
  
Johnny smiles at him before turning back to watch the dance floor fill with more couples, not just the recently married. He and his wingman stand a good distance from the rest of the party, which allows him an easier time of breathing and allowed him a reprieve from the awkwardness he usually feels at social gatherings. "It is a nice wedding."  
  
"Yukhei and Donghyuck's?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Yeah, it is a nice ceremony," Yuta agrees, taking a sip from his drink. "And it is entertaining, in a way, hearing Yukhei whine about being too slow to be the one to propose, though it did get a bit old."  
  
The captain chuckles at that.  
  
"It is even more entertaining to see Ten in a suit, stiffly standing at his side," Yuta says as he thinks back on the actual ceremony. "Of course, he admitted the only reason he wore it is because he knew I had a wager going that he’d wear ripped jeans.”

  
After a slight pause, Johnny reflects, "You realize the Married Quarters are going to be filling up again, even as the Bachelor Quarters are emptying out. Don't you?"  
  
"Does that mean we have to buy them house-warming gifts as well? I mean, I just got them a marriage gift..."  
  
The captain cannot stop the laugh that bubbles forth at the comment. The already questionable marriage gift has been obtained in a highly dubious manner, but no one from the Squadron is going to bring it to the attention of the authorities. However, that doesn’t stop the poll on when Yuta is going to be arrested next. Johnny shakes his head and drapes an arm across Yuta's shoulders. "Don't worry; I'm sure they're more interested in keeping you out of the brig than they are in you getting them any more gifts."  
  
"Oh, good," nods  Yuta.  
  
Again, silence descends upon the two as they watch the rest of the party attendees. Johnny becomes aware that there is something on Yuta' mind as his lieutenant repeatedly shifts in place, trying to hide his fidgeting by searching for one of his hidden cigars. Dropping his arm, Johnny regards his friend with worried eyes. "What's wrong, Yuta?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Liar."  
  
"I'm just..." Yuta gives up on his hunt in favor of honesty. "Johnny, now that the fraternization rules are gone, are you going to start seeing people?"  
  
"I...don't know." Johnny blinks and then blinks again, as the captain tries to process the question. "I mean, I know there's nothing stopping me from dating, but...I don't know. What about you? Does this free up some people from your Do Not Touch list?"  
  
"No." Yuta's answering smile is small but sad as he looks at his captain. "There is only one person on that list that I care about. Only one that has ever mattered. And that is the only person who will ever be my lover. Who will ever be my forever."  
  
"Who is it?" Johnny asks, feeling his stomach becoming suddenly heavy.  
  
The lieutenant shakes his head as he looks back to the dance floor. "It doesn't matter."  
  
"Yes, it does." Without hesitation, without thought, Johnny moves so that he is between Yuta and the party, forcibly taking the other’s attention. "Who is it?"  
  
"You won't approve."  
  
Johnny tilts his head, trying to think of someone, of anyone, that Yuta can name, of whom he will not approve. There are a lot of people that come to mind, but none of them are people to whom he thinks Yuta might be attracted. Sure, some of them are quite aesthetically pleasing, but none of them will be able to get along with him, and certainly none of them will be able to keep Yuta out of the brig. Then it strikes Johnny, how odd it is that he has to approve of whom Yuta dates. It is true, though. He will not allow Yuta to date someone of whom he doesn’t approve, who simply will not, or cannot, meet Johnny's standards for his friend. "Yuta... Who?"  
  
Yuta looks at him. "If this ruins our friendship, who will be the one to blame?"  
  
"I will always be your friend," Johnny stares at Yuta for a moment, before he finds a ledge to put his glass. "Tell me who it is. I can't say that I won't get mad or get disappointed, but I will say that no matter who it is, I will still be your friend. No matter—"  
  
Yuta cuts off the small speech by leaning forward and pressing his lips to Johnny’s. It is only a small kiss, a hint of liquor and cigar smoke, nothing deep or intrusive, barely even what some will consider a kiss, but it is enough to completely throw the captain off. He leans back, and there is a long moment of awkward silence as he stares at his companion in shock. The lieutenant shifts where he is standing, putting his drink down before putting his hands behind his back.  
  
Finally, Johnny speaks, "Um... That is unexpected."  
  
The two stand there for a moment, Yuta too afraid to speak and Johnny still a bit shocked. Elsewhere, in the hangar, the celebration continues, unmindful of the two non-participants.  
  
"So," Johnny tries to say but finds that his mind isn't ready to process anything other than the feel of Yuta' lips and how they have felt pressed firmly against his. "Right. Um..."  
  
"Johnny..."  
  
"Well, I will say you could have chosen better," manages the captain, though his voice is a bit off.  
  
"I chose the one who fit me best. I chose the one who made me feel...adequate. Made me feel comfortable. Equal. Human," Yuta replies. "Are you angry with me?"  
  
"No," the other male rushes to answer. "No, I'm not angry. Just...a little shocked. I mean... I would never have guessed."  
  
"I know. But..." Yuta shrugs before he gives a small half-smile. And if there is one thing Johnny is sure of his life, it’s that he’ll go to a great length to keep Yuta’s smile. "We, as humans, have never been able to control who we fall in love with."  
  
Johnny chuckles at having his words thrown back at him, but then he begins to laugh, and there is a hysterical edge to it that neither one of them particularly likes. Fighting it down, the captain tries to regain control of himself. 'I breathe in the fear...and exhale.' Johnny thinks as he takes calming breaths. Randomly, it occurs to him that he has spent a great deal of his life being afraid, and that isn't very comforting. 'Why am I afraid? Death isn't this scary. Why is this?' The answer is simple enough. This is Yuta, and Yuta can easily hurt him. On the other hand, Yuta always plays by clearly stated rules, ensuring that no one can enter into his games without being aware of what is at stake. "What are the rules?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I know you. You always make sure whoever you're with knows the rules you're playing by."  
  
There is a moment of utter stillness between them before Yuta warns, "Johnny... If I climb into your bed, I won't be climbing out."  
  
Johnny feels his entire body heat at the implication therein. Johnny regards his wingman, trying to figure out if he actually means it. And if he does, what will that entail for both of them? The future, which has already begun to look incredibly chaotic, turns absolutely oblique as question after question begins to form.  
  
The real question, though, is how much does he trust Yuta? He trusts Yuta with his life. He trusts Yuta to survive because he is too good to do anything less. He trusts Yuta to keep him in line, to remind him where his priorities lay, and he trusts Yuta to be honest with him, to never intentionally hurt him. That does not mean that Yuta will not cause him pain, but then, there are no guarantees about anything.  
  
And isn't this what they've been fighting for? A chance to do more than survive, day to day? Aren't they fighting for the chance to live again?  
  
Cautiously, Johnny whispers as his lips curve into a smile, "I can live with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is something i have never written before, i hope i've done well.

**Author's Note:**

> haha. the second part is of the same length. hopefully.


End file.
